My instant response was to tell him no, that I didn’t care. I’d got past what had happened to me and what I wanted was to go back to my obscure life and carry on as if none of this had ever happened.
You could do that. Or you could rewrite your own story. And this time with the ending you want.
The thought hit me hard.
Back when I was seventeen, being Clara’s tall, gangly stick of a sister had been tough, and I’d longed to be like her. Pretty and curvy, popular with all the boys. I’d been an easy mark for Simon. Desperate for attention, insecure, a prime target for his manipulation. And he had manipulated me. He’d made me think he wanted me, that he loved me.
Then he’d used me, humiliated me, and all because he’d wanted my sister and she’d refused him. I’d been his revenge on her, too naive and stupid to understand what he was doing.
So, in a way, Leon King was right. This would be a perfect kind of revenge. And it would be my choice. Something I could do for myself.
Slowly, I let out a breath and looked at him. ‘So...when you say a few public dates, how many are we talking here?’
CHAPTER FIVE
Leon
I HAD HER. Definitely I had her and a good thing too.
Satisfaction swept through me. Yes, Clara would have been preferable and I was pissed off at Hamilton for trying to pull a bait and switch, but fundamentally I didn’t much care which sister I married.
It was the marriage itself, the connection to the Hamiltons and the image it projected that I was concerned about.
Vita Hamilton wasn’t beautiful. But she’d do.
Besides, the way she’d kept looking at me intrigued me. How she hadn’t been afraid and how she’d refused me—and no one ever refused me. Or at least they didn’t without risking the consequences.
But she had. And it had been a challenge I hadn’t been able to resist.
Five years ago I would have answered that challenge with force. Not physical—not with a woman—but I’d have considered that sex tape information the perfect way to blackmail her into doing what I wanted.
Maybe I would have had to resort to that if she hadn’t agreed, but she had. And I had to admit that there was something sweet about her choosing me without the need for coercion.
She sat on the edge of the chair, her head tilted slightly, watching me with those bright eyes. Like a cautious bird or a curious fox. No, definitely more fox than bird with that undercurrent of auburn in her brown hair.
That was fine. She could be a little fox. But there was no doubt as to who the dominant predator here was. Me. And she knew it. I hadn’t missed how she’d looked away earlier when I’d let my gaze run over her, or how she’d blushed. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out that she wasn’t as immune to me as she acted.
‘How many dates?’ I took another long, slow look at her body to see if I’d get the same reaction. ‘I had three or four planned so far.’
The swell of her breasts was tantalising beneath the black fabric of her dress. They were small and round, a perfect fit for my hand. The rest of her was difficult to see from the way she sat, but her legs would be long and no doubt they’d wrap perfectly around my waist. Or drape over my shoulders...
‘But they’d be in public?’ She held my gaze, determined to show me how unbothered she was by the way I was looking at her.
She didn’t fool me, however. Even in the dim light of the nightclub I could see how she was blushing. Christ, did she really think I wouldn’t notice?
I watched as the stain of red crept down the delicate arch of her throat to the neckline of her boring black dress. ‘Not much point otherwise.’
She shifted on the edge of her chair and at last dragged her gaze from mine. Her hand half lifted, her finger nearly at her mouth before she put it back down in her lap again. Her nail polish was chipped. A nail-biter perhaps?
‘What kind of dates are we talking about?’ She gave the crowd a leisurely survey before glancing back to me again. ‘Going to the movies? That sort of thing?’
I grinned, letting her know that I’d caught her small nervous movement and how she’d had to look away. That I knew I was getting to her. ‘The movies? No, sweetheart. Think bigger.’
Her dark reddish brows arrowed down, the lights in her eyes flickering with irritation. ‘Don’t call me sweetheart.’
I was definitely getting to her. How satisfying.
‘You don’t like sweetheart?’ I asked mildly.
‘Not when my name is Vita.’
‘Sure, but you’ll be my fiancée. You need a pet name.’
Her mouth tightened. ‘I don’t want a pet name.’
‘Too bad, you’re getting one.’ I was being a prick, but I hadn’t had anyone this delicious to play with for years and I was going to enjoy the hell out of it. ‘You can choose which, though. If you don’t like sweetheart, your other choices are “baby”, “little girl”, “honey”, “darling” or “sweet cheeks”.’
She glared. ‘I don’t want you to call me any of those things.’
‘Hey, I’m all for equal opportunities. I don’t mind a pet name for myself. “Stud” or “big boy” is fine. I don’t mind “hot stuff”. My preference, though, is for “sir”.’
Her frown deepened. ‘Stop playing with me. I don’t like it.’
So. A woman who didn’t play games and had no interest in playing them either.
Disappointing. Still, her honesty and directness were refreshing. And, being the perverse bastard I was, they made me want to play with her even more.
Maybe I’d save that for later, though. Now I’d got her agreement to the marriage there was no point risking that for a bit of fun.
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘No games. As to the dates, I’ll send you the details later. But fair warning. There will be press involved. My aim is to show the entire world we’re in love.’
Another flicker of emotion crossed her face at the mention of the press and it looked like trepidation. Not that I could blame her. I’d only had a cursory look at the first couple of results of that search on her name, but that sex tape looked like it had been a major scandal. Seventeen was a hell of an age for that sort of attention, especially when that attention was the wrong kind.
‘But I get to say what happens on them, right?’ The trepidation had vanished, her expression becoming more concentrated, fierce almost.
Ah, yes. I had said something like that, hadn’t I?
A thread of unease wound through me. I wasn’t good at taking orders, never had been, even when my father had been the one giving them. Plus, I hated the thought of relinquishing control of a situation to someone else.
Then again, there were ways around that. Topping from the bottom, and all that.
‘Revenge,’ Vita said suddenly, as if she could sense my discomfort and was hoping to exploit it. ‘That’s what you told me. I could rewrite my own story, this time with me calling the shots.’
Shit. Little vixen was good at sniffing out a weakness, wasn’t she?
Not that it mattered. It was only a couple of dates, holding hands and some kissing. Maybe more than kissing depending on the situation. And if she didn’t want that, then so what? I wasn’t attracted to her anyway.
Yet... The devil inside me found her fascinating. It wanted a reaction from her, some kind of response, and I didn’t care that she wasn’t my type.
I was a predator who wanted the chase and who knew she’d put up one hell of a fight in the end.
‘Yes,’ I said, already thinking about how I could turn this to my advantage. ‘You get to call the shots.’
She gave a nod as if she’d been expecting me to okay it all along. ‘All right then. I agree to marry you. But only on the condition that whatever happens in public is directed by me.’
I waved a hand. ‘Be my guest.’
; ‘So what happens after the wedding?’
‘We’ll have a couple of months of blissfully happy marriage so my brothers and I can get as many investors on board as we can, and then I leave the country.’
Her hand lifted to her mouth again, and I was pretty sure it was an unconscious thing because she didn’t seem to be aware of it. ‘So, I have to live with you?’
‘Yes, you’ll stay with me at my house—don’t worry, it’s massive; you can have your own wing. You won’t even see me if you don’t want to.’
‘And then?’ She nibbled absently on the end of her nail.
Holy Christ, that mouth. I stared at the full, red shape of it. What if she had those lips wrapped around my cock instead of her own finger? Would she use her teeth? Dear God, I hoped so.
Why are you having fantasies about Vita Hamilton’s mouth?
I had no fucking idea.
‘Then, like I said, I leave the country.’ My voice sounded rough. Jesus.
She tilted her head, dark eyes on mine. ‘Why?’
I shifted, uncomfortably aware that my suit trousers were tighter than they’d been two seconds ago. ‘Why am I leaving the country? Because I am.’
‘Will you come back?’
‘No. Hence you getting the house. We’ll leave it six months, then sign the divorce papers and you’ll be free to go.’
She continued to nibble on her nail, frowning at me, as if she was working out a tricky problem in her head. ‘I won’t have to do anything I don’t want to do, right?’
‘Right.’ Though I could think of a couple of things I could convince her that she did want to do. Things involving that mouth. I was, after all, very good at convincing people.
‘Okay.’ Abruptly, she took her finger out of her mouth, much to my relief. ‘That’s all the questions I have for now.’ She reached for the small handbag she’d put down on the seat next to her, obviously getting ready to go.
Except I hadn’t finished.
We were in a nightclub and there were a lot of people around and, if I wasn’t much mistaken, a couple of columnists from the local gossip websites were propping up the bar. Which made right here, right now a prime opportunity to make our so-called relationship public. Plus, there was a small experiment I wanted to run. Just a test to...confirm something.
‘Excellent.’ I sat forward. ‘Give me your hand.’
She turned her head, giving me a wary sidelong look. ‘Why?’
‘You’re full of questions.’
‘I’m a scientist. Asking questions is what I do.’
‘A scientist?’ Diverted, I gave her another once-over. ‘You don’t look like one.’
‘Really?’ Her expression was scornful. ‘And what does a scientist look like?’
‘Blonde.’ I couldn’t resist playing with her. ‘Big tits. Glasses. Short white coat.’
‘No,’ she said flatly, refusing the bait. ‘Some scientists might look like that, but not the ones I know.’
‘Where do you work?’
‘In the university, in the labs. I’m a research assistant.’ The scorn faded from her voice, a note of pride entering it. ‘I have a PhD.’ She stared at me as she said it, like she was throwing down a challenge, though what she expected me to say I had no idea.
‘Smart, huh?’ I refused her bait as she’d refused mine. ‘I like a smart woman. You’ll have to tell me more on our next date.’
‘What do you mean next date? We haven’t even had one yet.’
‘Sure we have. This is our first.’ I reached out towards her. ‘Your hand, honey.’
‘Not honey.’
‘Sweetheart, then.’
‘I don’t want—’
‘Scared?’
Irritation rippled over her sharp little face. ‘I’m not falling for that.’
‘You know what they say, darling. You have to stand for something or else you’ll fall for anything.’
If she could have growled at me she would have, I’m sure.
Instead, she let out an annoyed breath. ‘Don’t make me regret this.’ Then she stuck out her hand.
I didn’t hesitate to take it or expect to feel anything when I did. Sure, I’d been fixated on her mouth and had thought about how her legs would feel wrapped around me, but I often thought those things about women. I was a man, after all, and not a very good one at that.
So I wasn’t prepared for the shock of raw electricity that jolted me the moment her long slender fingers touched mine. Or to see the same shock mirrored in the wide dark of her eyes.
She went still, the muscles in her arm tightening in preparation to jerk her hand away.
And I had one crystal-clear thought.
No. She wasn’t going to do that. Not here, not in full view of everyone. Not when this was the moment I’d chosen to reveal our relationship to the world.
So I closed my fingers around hers and held on.
She took a sharp breath.
Her skin was cool but it warmed against mine, and I didn’t think it was my imagination that the lights in her eyes flared briefly.
Yes, she felt this too.
I held her gaze in silent challenge. Then slowly I rose to my feet.
Her gaze was wary, watching me as if I was a dangerous animal she had to keep an eye on. It nearly made me smile.
Yes, keep watching, little vixen. You never know what I might do to you.
Keeping my fingers wrapped around hers, I moved towards the stairs that led out of the VIP area and down to the dance floor, tugging her with me.
She resisted at first but I didn’t pause, drawing her down the stairs and into the crowd.
‘What are you doing?’ she snapped as I stopped on the dance floor, a small space opening up around us, then turned to face her.
‘What does it look like?’ I gave her another tug, drawing her closer. ‘I’m going to dance with you.’
She blinked. ‘What? But I... I don’t know how to dance.’
Her wariness had been replaced with an adorable mixture of shock and confusion. And that was perhaps why she didn’t resist as I put my hands on her hips and drew her even closer, our bodies almost touching.
She was tall enough that I didn’t have to tilt my head to look down into her eyes.
‘Don’t worry,’ I said softly, staring into her bright, black gaze. ‘Just follow my lead.’
She blinked again and something hot and raw sizzled between us.
We were mere inches apart, the soft curve of her breasts nearly brushing my chest, the heat of her soaking into my palms where they rested on her hips. She wasn’t wearing any kind of perfume but I could smell her, a delicate musky scent with a floral hint.
It was delicious. It sent a bolt of pure lust straight to my cock.
Oh, pretending to be in love with her was going to be no hardship. No hardship at all.
I firmed my grip on her and a spark flared bright and brilliant in her eyes, making everything in me harden in anticipation.
I could kiss her right here, right now, and she wouldn’t protest. That beautiful mouth would open under mine and she’d taste so sweet, I just knew it.
But...perhaps not yet. It would be better to give her some time to get used to the idea of marrying me, not to mention get used to me getting close. It wouldn’t do to come on strong and frighten her away.
We were supposed to be madly in love after all.
So I didn’t kiss her. Instead, I let her go. ‘Perhaps we’ll leave it tonight then,’ I murmured, not bothering to explain. ‘I’ll be in touch.’
I smiled at her. Then I walked away.
CHAPTER SIX
Vita
LEON KING WAS a Grade A bastard.
The day after I’d met him in the nightclub and he’d forced me to dance he sent me a schedule of the dates
he’d be taking me on, with times, not to mention the name of the wedding planner who’d be handling the wedding itself. There were dates attached to that too—he wanted the marriage to happen as soon as possible while at the same time generating the maximum amount of publicity.
Four weeks was enough time apparently.
And he hadn’t only sent the schedule to me; he’d sent it to my father as well. So now Dad knew that not only had I met with Leon King without telling him, I’d tipped Leon off about me being Clara’s stand-in.
Yet that wasn’t the worst part.
The worst part was the link Leon had included with the schedule. A link that went to a page on some awful gossip website where there was a terrible write-up about Leon King’s new ‘love’. A photo accompanied it. A photo of him holding me on the dance floor just before he’d walked away.
I’d tried very hard to forget about the moment he’d held me close, his predator’s eyes watching me all the while. And I still didn’t know what had happened to me in that second. Why I’d let those big, warm hands of his rest on my hips and that tall, muscled body get close to mine.
It had been like I’d gone deaf, the beat of the music fading away, the crowds disappearing, everything lost in the dark gold of his eyes.
I’d just...forgotten I could move.
I’d forgotten I could breathe.
His nearness had been electric, my skin prickling all over, a strange restlessness coiling deep inside me, a heat that seemed to pool right down between my thighs.
It was as if he’d hypnotised me.
I didn’t know what it was in the end that made him walk away, but I was glad of it. Even more glad to get out of that damn club as quickly as I could.
What would you have done if he hadn’t let you go?
Nothing, of course. All that physical reaction was simply oestrogen reacting to testosterone, or pheromones or adrenaline, take your pick. None of that meant anything, and I should know since I still had the scars to prove it.
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