Married for One Reason Only

by Dani Collins

  She hugged herself and eyed him warily.

  “Wanting to kiss you and make love to you isn’t an idea,” he said. “It’s attraction. I wanted to see you again. Jalil’s news gave me the excuse. Now we’ve learned we’re having a baby, and our lives are going to be linked forever. I can understand if you’re worried sex will cloud things or you simply don’t feel up to it, but seducing you isn’t some master plan on my part. I’m reacting to being near you, same as you are to me.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m doing—reacting! I can’t keep a lucid thought in my head or figure out what comes next. My hormones are saying, ‘Have sex. Then you don’t have to think at all.’ That’s not going to solve anything.”

  “I don’t know,” he drawled. “My hormones would love a sidebar with yours. Maybe we should give it to them, see what they accomplish.”

  “Pfft.” She dissolved into the prettiest laughter he’d ever heard. “Nice try.”

  He shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

  The air crackled with awareness and possibility and the panting breath of a wolf circling his mate. Her eyes widened, and she licked her lips. He started to close in on her, but her phone released a more aggressive sound of church bells.

  “I always set two, in case I sleep through one,” she said, moving to silence it. “And I can’t miss this flight. My parents are expecting me.” She glanced warily at him.

  “I’m coming with you,” he reminded her. “We have a lot to talk about.”

  She started to say something, but her gaze focused with annoyance over his shoulder, and she tsked. “I forgot the garment bag for this on the yacht.”

  She circled around him to ruffle the gown he’d left hanging from the curtain rod.

  Vijay ran his tongue over his teeth.

  “I’ll call the concierge. I’m sure they can send something up.” He moved to pick up the hotel phone, then paused. He had to know. “Was it a gift from Duke?”

  “Maman.” She splayed the skirt to look for flaws. “For their anniversary party. She’ll be annoyed that I haven’t been caring for it properly. It will have to be cleaned and steamed. Repaired.” She touched a loose thread at the hem. “You can have my bed at the chateau, because I’ll be in the doghouse.”

  He snorted, but her smile faded. She seemed to remember that a less than perfect gown was the least of the things that could potentially upset her mother.

  He wanted to tell her it would be okay, but he didn’t know that. All he knew was that she’d just conceded to his going to Tours with her. That was enough for now.

  He called down for a garment bag and ordered breakfast at the same time.

  * * *

  Oriel didn’t protest Vijay coming home with her. He was the father of her unborn baby. Whether she married him or not, he ought to meet her parents.

  They arrived to chaos. Caterers and decorators and workmen were overrunning the place, erecting marquee tents and unloading tables, chairs, linens and dishes.

  Her mother would be in her element. It was the sort of orchestration she loved best. She was not only the center of attention—her rightful place—but she was director, producer, and critic, providing a swift review if a flower head sagged or a bulb on a string failed to light.

  “When you said the gown was for your parents’ anniversary party...” Vijay said as they climbed from the car at the bottom of the steps.

  “Um, yes. It’s tonight.” She grimaced as she realized she hadn’t exactly prepared him. “It’s just an intimate affair with three hundred of Maman’s closest friends and colleagues. I did mention that she is beloved? The spare room in my suite please, Tauseef,” Oriel directed as her mother’s chauffeur retrieved their luggage.

  Vijay lifted a brow at her. She lifted a shoulder at him. She was angry and wary of trusting him again, but she kept thinking about him saying, I shouldn’t have come to your room without telling you everything, but I couldn’t stay away.

  She was equally compelled to keep him near. The way he’d held her last night had been deeply comforting. He was right that they had a lot to talk about, and she couldn’t help wondering if they might have something beyond what looked on the surface to be a complete disaster.

  Maybe she was kidding herself, but there was only one way to find out.

  She led him into the house, where it was easy enough to locate her mother. She was nearly always in the music salon even when she wasn’t singing.

  They went through the oval-shaped foyer with its curved staircase and domed ceiling, then passed the large sitting room with its grand fireplace and row of arched windows that looked onto the grounds. Abundant furniture was arranged in pockets for her parents’ frequent houseguests and evening soirees. On their other side, they passed the formal dining room with its long table and westward-facing windows that caught the sunset on the pond, and finally arrived at the octagonal-shaped room where her mother spent most of her time.

  The music salon was no less exquisitely built than the rest of the modern chateau, but it was kept free of carpets and pollen and other dust-producers so as to preserve Madame’s voice. Like her bedroom, the windows were triple-paned and the humidity carefully monitored and controlled. The grand piano was played every day while she exercised her vocal cords.

  Today Estelle was surrounded by her entourage of assistants, agents, and designers along with some of Oriel’s favorite aunties and cousins.

  “Chou. At last.” Estelle came forward to embrace Oriel, kissing each of her cheeks.

  Madame Estelle was only five and a half feet tall, but she was such an imposing presence she seemed to be at least six and a half. Her hair was wrapped in a silk turban unless she was performing or making an appearance. Today, she wore one of her colorful caftans in bright yellow and magenta. It made her dark brown skin glow. She had been born with an assertive personality and tremendous operatic talent. As her voice had developed and her status rose, she had become a powerhouse in the entertainment business and a diva everywhere else.

  Introductions were made, and Oriel gave and accepted all the kisses. Her mother eyed Vijay with curiosity. “A fellow model?”

  “No,” he dismissed with a self-conscious twitch of his mouth. “It’s flattering you think I could be, but I’m in security technology.”

  “Vijay is the President of TecSec’s Asia division,” Oriel provided.

  “Oh? We use them ourselves. I imagine you have many secrets about your private clients that you will refuse to let me worm out of you, but I shall enjoy the challenge of trying. I’m so glad you brought someone interesting.” Estelle tapped Oriel’s arm. “I feared you would bring that tired actor. I didn’t know much about him, but what I did know made me certain I didn’t need to know more.”

  Madame Estelle could get away with speaking her mind like that. Oriel would have chuckled along with everyone else, but she was too anxious over what she had to reveal.

  “Where is Papa?” she asked.

  “In his citadel, taking refuge from the chaos. Go along and say hello. Come down to visit after you’ve settled in.”

  “Will you come with me, please? There’s something I need to discuss with you both.”

  “Cherie, I have so much to do, and our darling family is here.” She waved at all the faces that had grown avid with curiosity. “You’ll be here all week. Can it wait?”

  “It can’t.” Oriel smiled an apology, but let her mother see her firmness.

  Estelle gave Vijay another sidelong look. “Are you here in a professional capacity, Monsieur Sahir?”

  “I’ll let Oriel explain,” he said with equanimity as he fell into step alongside her down the hall.

  Moments later, they entered the library where Oriel’s father, Arnaud, wrote his papers and studied his historical research.

  Arnaud was the perfect foil for Estelle. He was a quiet, patient man who co
uld sit for hours in dressing rooms and concert halls or amid the babble of creative people who were his wife’s constant companions. If he wasn’t actively reading, he held a book with his finger notched between the pages. He had absolutely no desire for a spotlight, but was sincere and effusive in his praise of his wife for earning her place in hers.

  Oriel had always felt completely loved and supported by him, but also as though she was a creature he didn’t quite understand. Today, her sense of being an alien was stronger than ever. She worried they would both feel slighted by what she was about to tell them.

  Her hands were so clammy, her father frowned with concern when he took them. He kissed both her cheeks, then shook Vijay’s hand, studying him enquiringly as Oriel nervously closed the doors.

  “Are we to have an engagement announcement at our anniversary?” Estelle asked with obvious delight as she perched herself on the arm of her husband’s chair. “There would be some lovely symmetry to that.”

  “No, Maman.” Oriel glanced at Vijay, silently begging him to say nothing about the baby.

  He lowered himself to sit beside her on the sofa, and she took strength from his unflinching gaze and supportive silence.

  “Vijay is an envoy from my birth family.”

  Estelle was rarely taken aback. Her breath went in as though she was doing her most aggressive breathing exercises. She rose with quiet grace and moved to her husband’s sideboard, where she poured brandy with heavy liquid gurgles.

  Oriel waited until her mother had handed out all the glasses and had perched on the chair again, taking Arnaud’s hand in her own.

  Oriel set her own drink aside and kept to the facts, skipping over absconded toothbrushes and a dinner-turned-dalliance. She simply relayed what Vijay had told her about Lakshmi, and that Jalil wished to meet her.

  “I don’t understand,” Estelle said. “The clinic told us Oriel’s birth parents were from Romania.”

  “I can only presume that was a red herring meant to protect Lakshmi’s identity,” Vijay said. “We’ve been trying to learn more about the clinic itself, but it closed two decades ago.”

  “Are you concerned there was impropriety? They came highly recommended. The lawyer who handled our side of the paperwork will be here tonight. He’s above reproach,” her mother insisted. “We had our name registered with several organizations at the time. This clinic was the first to contact us. They said the young woman liked our profile. We weren’t attempting anything shady.”

  “I’m not suggesting you were. We may never know the complete truth about how Lakshmi came to give Oriel up. The important thing is that nothing we do learn could change the fact that you and Oriel are a family.” Vijay looked at Oriel as he spoke, reinforcing that he wasn’t here to take anything away from anyone. “Jalil has concerns the manager may have behaved unethically, though. If he did, he would like to see justice served.”

  “Of course.” Estelle touched her throat. “Oriel isn’t in any danger, is she?”

  “Not to my knowledge, but if and when this news becomes public, you should expect a great deal of attention.” Vijay sent Oriel a grimace of apology. “There is one other detail I haven’t made clear to you. Jalil regards Lakshmi’s estate as rightfully belonging to her child. In euros, it’s worth over a hundred million.”

  “What? Non!” Oriel would have leaped to her feet, but her bones dissolved. “Please stop giving me these shocks. I’ll need defibrillator paddles!”

  He chuckled and reached across to squeeze her hand. “Whether you accept it or not is between you and Jalil. I’m telling you so you can plan security. You’ll need it.” He glanced at her parents. “I suggest you keep this news to yourselves until you have a full contingent of bodyguards in place, especially for the initial excitement. If you don’t mind, I’ll introduce myself to your security team while I’m here, purely as a courtesy.”

  “Of course.” Arnaud nodded.

  “Très bien.” Estelle rose from the arm of the chair in her take-charge way. “We will discuss details tomorrow, but tonight the show goes on.” Her glance bounced off where Vijay still had his hand over Oriel’s. “We don’t want you to look like a bodyguard, Monsieur Sahir. Did you bring a tuxedo? Our party is white tie. Oriel, Max is in the pool house if you need assistance.” She clapped her hands. “Four hours to curtain, my dears.”

  * * *

  “Max” was Madame Estelle’s personal designer. He tailored the entire family and had a full team offering an array of spa services from the cabanas around the pool.

  Vijay was led there by the head of security after he and Oriel had made their rounds together.

  Oriel had retired to her room by then, and Vijay hoped she was resting. He had thought her parents had taken the news as well as possible, but she’d seemed very withdrawn after.

  He was concerned about her, but after walking the estate and getting a true sense of her family’s net worth, he was concerned about them.

  Back when he’d proposed to Wisa, he’d thought they were on the same level of wealth and privilege. As it turned out, his family’s wealth had been ill-gotten. The fallout of discovering that had contributed to their extremely ugly breakup.

  Vijay had had to start over. He was extremely comfortable now, but even though he was evolved enough not to feel threatened by the idea of a woman making more money than he did, he couldn’t help being aware he would never catch up to Oriel if she stood to inherit all of this and all of Lakshmi’s wealth. It shouldn’t matter in a relationship, but it would always have the potential to.

  Despite that, he kept coming around to their marriage being inevitable. He wasn’t so rich in family that he could afford to let his own child be raised away from him. Oriel seemed equally devoted to being a full-time parent. That meant at least living together.

  He wanted marriage, though, and not for entirely logical reasons. Wisa had proved to him that a ring didn’t ensure fidelity, but the vows and formality of marriage were something he would take seriously. He wanted that stability for their child, but he wanted it for himself, too. And he couldn’t help thinking that making those promises to each other would go a lot further in earning each other’s trust than keeping their options open.

  Could they make a marriage work, though? The differences in their backgrounds became even more obvious as Max asked him to remove the tuxedo he’d just tried on so it could be altered on the spot.

  While he waited, Vijay’s beard was sculpted and his hair trimmed. He was given a manicure for the first time in his life, even though he was also given gloves to wear. His shirt required cuff links, and gold ones appeared. The points of his white vest were a precise quarter-inch beneath the edge of his split-tailed jacket. The jacket’s lapels matched the satin stripe down his trouser seams. New shoes in his size fit perfectly over his fresh silk socks. His bow tie was snow white.

  Vijay might have felt overdressed and pretentious, maybe even resentful of being forced to fit in, if he hadn’t looked so damned good.

  He was directed to join the flock of penguins in the drawing room, where he noted that not all of the tuxedo-wearers were men. Vijay wasn’t sure what they were waiting for, but they were all offered a signature cocktail with cognac lemon from sugar-rimmed glasses. Arnaud introduced Vijay to everyone and explained how each person was related to Oriel.

  Vijay wasn’t intimidated by titles or political power, but this level of society underscored even more how different he and Oriel were. They could negotiate how and where they would live, but at some point he would have to tell her about his father. How would she react to that?

  “Monsieur,” the butler said to Arnaud. “If you would like to assemble your guests in the front hall, the rest of the family will descend.”

  Vijay moved with the group into the entranceway.

  Madame Estelle certainly enjoyed her pageantry. A trio of strings began to play as a nam
e was announced. A woman floated down in an evening gown of peacock blue. She was met at the bottom by a man who brought her to a spot near the door, where they would form the head of the procession out to the marquee.

  Cars were bumper to bumper on the drive. Guests had been queuing up on the red carpet for nearly an hour.

  Vijay politely added his glove-muted applause for each person who came down in their glamorous and sophisticated evening wear, enjoying the drama of it.

  “Mademoiselle Oriel Cuvier,” the butler called.

  His heart unexpectedly rose into his throat as he waited for her to appear.

  He’d already seen her in the gown. The sight of her shouldn’t have affected him, but she was entirely too beautiful for him not to feel his breath punched right out of him as she moved into the light at the top of the stairs.

  Her hair was up again, but she wore a tiara that cast sparks of light between her piles of curls. Her earrings were matched by a stunning necklace that dripped ice down her cleavage. Her elbow-length gloves were silver to match her gown, and she wore a cuff of diamonds over her left wrist.

  He had not appreciated her ability to command attention purely by the way she moved, but the gown and jewels all became secondary to the enigmatic mystique she projected as she descended, seemingly oblivious to everyone watching her.

  Her eyes found him, though. Her gaze beckoned him to the bottom of the stairs. The smoldering sensuality in her expression stoked a fire in him. When he offered his arm, she bestowed a smile on him that sent a rush of pride through him. Pride that she found him pleasing. Pride that he was the escort for this stunning woman whose touch on his arm became a hot ember in his chest.

  They moved into their place in the procession and turned as her mother was announced.

  “Thirtieth anniversary is pearl,” Oriel whispered.

  Madame appeared in a gown covered in luminescent seed pearls. It rustled softly as she came to a halt at the top of the stairs and waited for the clapping to subside.