Marrying for his Royal Heir & The Terms of Their Affair (Clare Connelly Pairs Book 7)

by Clare Connelly

  On legs that trembled, she moved to the desk and sat gingerly in one of the seats opposite him. Her hands she clasped in her lap so that their shaking would be less visible to his all-too-perceptive gaze.

  Only Kyle’s gaze was perceptive. The minute Annie had arrived at his office in the sky, he’d had to rail against making an audible sound of shock. She’d changed so much in only six months. Annie had never been curvaceous but now she was so slim he was surprised she could stand. Her eyes were hollow and despite the excellently applied makeup her complexion was pale.

  He had teased her, during their marriage, for the way she would dress to the nines even for nights spent at home. Her clothes had, unfailingly, been the last word in sophistication – though that hadn’t changed. The black dress she was wearing, teamed with a gold choker and patent leather stilettos was a look that was both chic and sexy … but this woman wasn’t Annie. Where had her breasts gone? Her hips?

  “Please stop staring at me like that,” she whispered, her eyes beseechingly fixed to his. “I’m trying to do this as quickly as I can.”

  He made an impatient noise and cast a glance at his wristwatch. “I could have read Anna Karenina twice by now and we both know how I loathe Tolstoy.”

  Annie dipped her head forward to hide her hurt. She had never been his match, not in any way. Least of all intellectually. “Adam’s in trouble. He’s done something really bad. And I need your help.”

  Kyle was careful not to give anything away. Annie’s twin brother was as dishonest as he was brilliant, but he was also the reason Kyle had met Annie. It was his saving grace, and the sole reason Kyle had allowed Adam to stay on in one of the businesses he owned.

  “How so?”

  “You know Adam.” She forced herself to meet his eyes. They were scathing. She shivered. How could love just combust as theirs had?

  “Yes.” A single word that conveyed true disdain. She ignored it; rather, she allowed it. Her husband had every reason to think ill of Adam.

  “He’s gone too far this time. I think he’s involved in something really bad.”

  “Really bad?” Kyle mocked her phrasing, arching his brows in a way that made Annie feel about two inches tall. In contrast, his own words were business-like. “Get to the point. What is it you believe he has done?”

  She swallowed. Though the room was kept at a perfectly civilised temperature all year round, she was flush with heat. Adrenalin was shooting through her. “As in … illegal.” She squeezed her eyes shut and then shook her head. Saying it aloud made it so much more real and horrifying. “I’m not sure. I mean, he’s really clever and I have no doubt he’d be great at covering his tracks.”

  Not as great as Annie believed, Kyle thought sardonically.

  “So why do you think he’s involved in something illegal, Annie?”

  She bit down on her lip. “Because he’s …” She shook her head. “I’m probably being stupid.”

  “For God’s sake, would you just spit it out?”

  The harsh invective startled her. Hurt flashed in her expression. “I’m trying, Kyle.”

  He stared at the hypnotic racing of her pulse, visible beneath the fine pale flesh at the base of her neck.

  His face was grim, a reflection of how he felt in that moment. “Try harder.”

  She’d asked for this, Annie supposed. She’d turned the love they’d felt into this maelstrom of anger and resentment. “He’s …”

  A sharp bleeting interrupted her already hesitant sentence. Kyle’s direct stare didn’t falter but Annie’s eyes dropped to the phone. “You can answer,” she said quickly, her words tripping over themselves.

  “Gee, thanks.” He snapped the phone off the cradle and pressed it to his ear, his eyes still locked to her face. “I’ve been detained.” A look of derision and then a curt nod. “Fine. Two minutes.” He slammed the phone back into place and stood in one motion.

  “My meeting can’t wait.” But you can. The words sat between them like an electrically charged accusation.

  Annie nodded even though he hadn’t asked a question. “That’s fine.”

  Her rapid acquiescence angered him. She was his wife. True, she’d deserted him, left their marriage, and sued for a divorce. But he hadn’t granted it. He hadn’t so much as acknowledged the divorce papers.

  She should have been demanding he listen to her.

  She should have demanded so much more of him.

  But as usual, Annie simple crumpled into line with his objectives.

  “Maria will bring you tea.” The kindness surprised them both. He slipped his cell phone into his pocket then fixed her with one final look. He fought the urge to ask her to wait for him.

  Because he knew she would.

  1

  He fumed.

  He smouldered.

  He thundered.

  Bloody Annie and her devotion to that idiotic brother of hers. It was her blindspot and her downfall.

  It was the reason they’d met. Perhaps even the reason she’d married him. And it was certainly the reason she was there now.

  Adam.

  The computer genius who just happened to lack a decent bone in his body.

  So why was Annie so determined to clean up his mess again and again?

  Because they were family, his inner monologue pointed out. Family. The perpetual mystery to Kyle Anderson, for he had none. He’d passed from foster home to foster home until he was sixteen and he’d successfully petitioned the courts to grant him control of his own destiny.

  The ties of twins was particularly confusing. It was a closeness that defied reason.

  “The Aspen hotel is underperforming for the second quarter,” he remarked, having been paying moderate attention to the conversation. “But that’s hardly a reason to panic.”

  “It isn’t?” Lucas frowned at Kyle. The two men were more than just friends, and more than staff. For nine months they’d shared the same foster home in Detroit. It had been one of the more harrowing homes that had taken Kyle in, and he had felt an instant kinship for Lucas. Kyle had stood up for him whenever he’d needed to, even if the penalties for such disobedience were far worse for the bigger, older Kyle. “The figures are ...”

  “Abysmal.” Kyle shrugged his shoulders, his eyes showing some of his emotional distraction. The room was filled with suits. Men and women who had earned their position at the table by working impossibly long hours to grow Kyle’s businesses. “But they’ll improve.” He scanned the figures with the precision that had made him famous. “Have the manager flown in to meet with me, Luc.”

  He paused, his finger half way down the column of information. “No. I’ll go there. Have The Kennedy Suite reserved.”

  “Sure.” Luc nodded, familiar enough with Kyle’s ways not to flinch at the unusual direction.

  Was she drinking tea and calming down? Or were her nerves still wound tighter than a spring?

  Kyle kept his mind focussed on the current meeting with his legendary determination. But his body was elsewhere. In the past? Or three floors up, in his office.

  What did she want him to do?

  Adam had embezzled a phenomenal sum, and in the most insanely brilliant way. By skimming dollars and cents off tens of thousands of employees pay checks each week he’d amassed an incredible fortune in a very short time. It was criminal, and it was entirely traceable, and he’d already be in prison if Kyle hadn’t had his accounts team ensure each staff member affected was compensated accordingly.

  Had he done that for her?

  Undoubtedly.

  He was furious with his wife for leaving him, and especially for leaving him without explanation.

  But seeing her brother in prison would be devastating to Annie and embarrassing to Kyle. Further, it would serve little purpose.

  “We’re finished here.” He stood by way of dismissal but waited a moment for any of the assembled staff to raise a further issue. No one did, and so Kyle spun on his heel and left without a backwards glance
.

  “Hey! Wait up, bro.” Luc caught him at the entrance to the elevator. Kyle’s face was a study of impatience.

  “What is it?” He asked, casting a glance at his wristwatch for good measure.

  Luc had worked for Kyle for five years, since he’d moved to Manhattan in need of a new start. And in that time, he’d come to understand Kyle better than almost anyone else.

  “You’re jumpier than a jack in the box. It’s not the hotel in Aspen …”

  “No,” Kyle agreed sharply.

  “So?”

  He expelled an angry breath. “Annabelle’s back.”

  Luc’s thick brows shot up in the air. “She is? Where?”

  “In my office.”

  Luc ran a hand across his stubbled jaw and let out a low-whistle. “Let me guess. She wants to save her brother’s bacon.”

  “Something like that,” Kyle nodded.

  “So you haven’t seen her in six months and now she’s come running to you for help?”

  Kyle had thought exactly he same thing, the ungenerous assessment only natural in the circumstances. Yet the characterisation from his friend rankled. “I’d rather she came to me for help than not.”

  “But still.” Luc’s shoulders lifted in a silent continuation of the sentence. “What are you going to do?”

  Kyle’s smile was devoid of pleasure. “I don’t have a clue.” His eyes knit together. “I just know I can’t let her go again.”

  “Bro, you can’t make her stay married to you,” Luc laughed, presuming Kyle was making one of his deadpan jokes.

  Only Kyle’s expression was completely serious. “She’s my wife.”

  “She left you …”

  “I remember.” His gaze was sharpened by determination.

  “You’re playing with fire,” Luc warned.

  And perhaps he was. But where Annie was concerned, Kyle was as happy to get burned as ever.

  Two years earlier

  Annie’s sides were hurting from laughing. “You can’t just order everything off the menu,” she wiped her eyes and shook her head, the butterflies she’d been feeling all afternoon now pleasurably converted into whirlpools of amusement.

  “Why not?” He shrugged. “You don’t know what you want, and I’m starving.”

  “Because it’s wasteful,” she pointed out, crossing her legs beneath the table. Her foot brushed against his calf as she did so. It was a completely accidental contact but it sent waves of desire crashing over her. She sobered slightly and shook her head. “Honestly, I’ll be happy with anything.”

  He lifted a brow. “And everything?”

  “No!” She reached across the crisp white cloth and put a hand on his. “This was supposed to be a simple dinner to thank you for all your help with my brother.” Her eyes clouded at the brief mention of Adam.

  “Your brother has nothing to do with why I asked you to dinner,” he clarified, lifting his glass of wine and sipping it while his eyes rested on her face.

  Annie’s heart clicked in her chest. His face was the most exquisite thing she’d ever seen, and even more so when he smiled. The powerful Kyle Anderson was a legend. The kind of man mere mortals didn’t approach, far less enjoy dinner opposite as though they were old friends.

  And yet he’d been nothing like she’d expected. From the moment she’d screwed her courage into a tight ball and gone to see him, to throw herself on his mercy and beg for his help and understanding, she’d been surprised again and again.

  He wasn’t intimidating. At least, not in the ways she’d expected.

  He’d listened to her story, his eyes flashing with intelligent comprehension as he’d asked question after question until he had grasped fully the mess Adam was in. And then he’d simply promised he would help.

  Annie shifted a little, running a finger around the rim of her water glass. “Nonetheless, I am so grateful.”

  “You have nothing to thank me for,” he promised, his voice husky. “I would do what I did ten times over to be rewarded with the happiness in your face.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “I promise you won’t need to. I think Adam’s probably learned his lesson. At least, I hope he has.”

  Kyle doubted it, but he kept the cynical condemnation to himself. “You must care for him a great deal to go into bat for him like this.”

  She shrugged. “He’s my twin. Do you have brothers? Sisters?”

  His eyes were contemplative. “I never knew my biological family,” he said simply, but it wasn’t a simple statement. It sparked myriad questions for Annie and she couldn’t decide which to pose first.

  “You were adopted?”

  “No.”

  “Fostered?”

  He dipped his head forward. “I don’t talk about my childhood. I’m sorry.”

  Both the apology and declaration felt forced. Somehow, instinct kicked in and Annie just knew she shouldn’t let it drop. “Did you grow up in New York?”

  He arched a brow at her persistence. “No.”

  “Where then?”

  He reached across and laced his fingers through hers. “Many places. And you? London?”

  She nodded. “So you’ve moved around a bit?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t talk about my childhood because it’s in my past.”

  “Your past is part of you.”

  “As is yours.”

  Her smile was bewitching. Kyle felt something completely foreign sweep through his chest; a force so powerful he almost gasped at it.

  “You might be able to put most people off with that tough-guy façade but not me.”

  His laugh was a soft rumble that sent electric shocks firing through her system. “What makes you think it’s a façade?”

  “I don’t know,” she said slowly, her eyes roaming his face as though she was looking for a clue in his features. “I just get a sense about you.”

  “And what’s that sense?” He prompted curiously.

  She shivered. “I think I’m meant to ask you these questions. And that deep down you want to answer them. And I think that maybe you’re a bit scared by that because you don’t usually feel inclined to open up to people you’ve just met.”

  “But you’re different,” he said quietly, his eyes meeting hers with a flash of understanding.

  “And you’re different,” she nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat.

  They stared at one another in silence, yet they were communicating. The air around them seemed to pulse and hum with perception. Finally, he stroked a thumb across her hand and smiled tightly. “I had twenty two foster homes in sixteen years.”

  Annie was careful not to react with the sympathy that came as an innate response to his statement. He didn’t want her sympathy or pity. It was enough that he was telling his story.

  “I was never welcome anywhere for long.” He cleared his throat. “I was that kind of kid.”

  She shook her head slightly. “Somehow I suspect that has more to do with the homes you were in rather than who you were.”

  His smile was forced. “I was difficult.”

  “So? Aren’t most kids?”

  He nodded. “Perhaps.”

  “What was it like to be moved around so much?”

  “Better than staying put,” he said quickly, his expression shifting with darkness at the memories that were trying to break free from the recesses of his brain.

  “Did you have any homes where you felt … at home?”

  “No. Some more than others, but that’s not saying much.”

  “It must have been very hard not to have a strong role model, or someone you felt you could trust.”

  He weighed her words carefully in his mind, wondering at his desire to answer with complete honesty. “I had a teacher. Only for a few months, mind you, because I was never at a school for very long either. Occupational hazard of being moved from home to home.”

  She clucked sadly. “Starting school once was hard enough. I can’t imagine having to do it sever
al times.”

  He nodded. “You learn not to give a rat’s ass what people say about you.”

  “I’ll bet. Kids can be such arseholes.”

  He laughed at the word coming from someone like Annie, for she was sweet and kind and softly well-spoken.

  “Who was this teacher?”

  “Greg Oliver.”

  “What grade were you?”

  “I don’t even remember now. I must have been fifteen though, because he was the one who suggested I could emancipate myself when I turned sixteen.”

  “You could what? What do you mean?”

  “I petitioned the courts to release me from the foster system. They did it in a heartbeat. I don’t think they knew what to do with me, or kids like me. No one wanted me in the end. I was going to the foster parents who said they could ‘manage’ hard-cases.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He ground his teeth together. “Their systems of management were not ideal,” he said with a shrug.

  “God, I hate to think.” She turned her hand over to capture his and then she lifted it to her lips and pressed a kiss against the fingers. It was a strange intimacy given that they were on their first date and hadn’t even kissed yet, but it felt completely appropriate.

  “That’s my past.”

  “Not even close,” she said, squeezing his fingers. “So you were emancipated. And then what?”

  “And then I got a scholarship to college.”

  “At sixteen?”

  He lifted his lips sardonically. “One of the benefits of being big for my age and moving around so much was that no one bothered to keep track of my transcripts. I accelerated myself two grades to graduate at sixteen.”

  “Jeez,” she shook her head, impressed beyond words at the way he’d managed a situation that was so far from picture-perfect. “I think you’re amazing.”