by Nina Singh
She couldn’t tell Wyatt why that was a problem. Oh, she’d planned to. But she’d been caught up in the whirlwind of falling in love, and, honestly, was it so wrong that she didn’t want her father to ruin that, too?
She should have let him though. Then she might not have found herself on her honeymoon, listening to Wyatt recount his experiences with his own parents, realising once again she’d have to lie for her father.
She might have still been married, too.
* * *
Wyatt didn’t believe in fate. At least he hadn’t, until he’d met Trevor Bishop.
The foundation for that belief had been laid when he’d actually attended the university class Trevor had been guest lecturing at. At that point, Wyatt’s attendance record had been similar to his academic record: he’d done the bare minimum to pass.
Wyatt thought about that version of himself in a very distant way. He knew it was him, but he couldn’t relate to that boy any more. The boy who’d been full of hurt and anger at parents who’d abandoned him. The boy who’d had no purpose. Perhaps that was why meeting Trevor Bishop that day had been so significant. If he hadn’t, that boy would have become a hurt and angry man.
That was not the man Wyatt was today.
Or so he’d thought until now, seeing his ex-wife for the first time since they’d signed their divorce papers.
Her arms were at her sides, her hands curled into fists, her expression painfully tight. All signs she didn’t want to be there. Proof she’d been lying when she said she hadn’t tried to get out of this event, too. She hated being there. The only reason he could think of as to why was him.
Hurt curled in his belly; anger simmered in his veins.
It made no sense then that his eyes had immediately been drawn to her when he’d arrived minutes earlier. Or that he’d followed her outside, away from the crowd of people who would have protected him from the pain, the anger.
Yet there he was, desperately pretending seeing her again didn’t stir up emotions he’d rather not feel.
‘Why would I try to get out of this?’ he asked, his voice deliberately pleasant. She’d started it, hadn’t she? ‘It’s an all-expenses-paid vacation to a beautiful lodge along the beach of one of South Africa’s most beautiful places.’
‘Oh, yes,’ she replied dryly. ‘I’d forgotten about your meagre wealth.’ Her eyebrow lifted. ‘I’d forgotten how poorly travelled you are.’
He resisted the smile, though he accepted the jibe. She was right. He didn’t need anyone to pay for anything for him these days. It was a stark contrast to his childhood. To the days after his father had left and his mother had drunk herself into oblivion. When he’d had to steal his schoolmates’ lunches for food or wear his father’s clothes when his had grown too small.
That kid could never have imagined having the money Wyatt had today. Nor would he have imagined the trips Wyatt now took as the right-hand man of the CEO of Bishop Enterprises. He flew all over the world to secure deals for the import/export company.
His life had changed dramatically. All because fate had urged him to attend class on the day Trevor Bishop had been there.
Then again, fate had brought him Summer, too. Look how that had turned out.
‘Let’s put it down to the respect I have for my ex-father-in-law, then, shall we?’
‘Yes,’ she said after a moment. ‘Let’s.’
Her eyes met his, and he thought he saw a flash of vulnerability there. It quickly slipped behind a cool expression, which he was grateful for. A long time ago he’d cared about what was behind that cool expression. Hell, he’d thought he’d seen exactly what was behind that cool expression.
Because it was almost identical to the expressions he’d worn. The ones that said, I’m pretending, but you’ll never know why. Or, I’m hiding something, and you’ll never know what.
Back then he’d thought he knew why Summer was pretending. What she was hiding. She was the strong and powerful heiress of the Bishop empire; she had to act that way. She was hiding that she didn’t want to.
Except now he wasn’t so sure he’d known anything about her after all. Or was he just sour that she knew enough about him to think he wasn’t worth the woman behind the mask any more?
Whatever it was, when she deemed him worthy to see the real her, it made him lose his ability to reason. He’d proposed spontaneously; married her within weeks of that proposal.
He should have signed the divorce papers at the same time and saved himself some trouble.
‘Where is Autumn?’ he asked, trying to get his mind off the memories. ‘I thought she’d be here.’
Not that he noticed anyone after he saw Summer.
‘She will be.’ Summer clenched her jaw, then relaxed it. Forcibly, he thought. ‘She’s putting the final touches on a cake for a wedding tomorrow. Then she’ll have to get it to the actual wedding, so she’ll only be here on Sunday. Conveniently,’ she added, distinctly softer than her other words.
For some reason, it amused him.
‘Pity.’
‘It is.’ She narrowed her eyes.
‘What?’
‘You’re using that dry tone that tells me you’re making fun of me.’
‘I’d never make fun of you.’
‘You did it again.’
‘Summer, I’m not responsible for the way you interpret my tone.’
He smiled easily at her, mostly because he knew she’d find it irritating. He really missed irritating her.
‘As obstinate as ever, I see.’
‘As sensitive as ever, I see.’
‘I am not—’ Summer broke off when his smile widened. ‘I should have tried harder to get out of this.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed, not acknowledging her confirmation that she had tried to skip the event. ‘It would have saved you a lot of trouble.’
Her expression went blank, her eyes shifting to the doors of the dining hall they’d come out of before resting on him again.
‘Did you come out here specifically to annoy me, Wyatt?’
Since he couldn’t tell her the real reasons he’d followed her—he didn’t fully know what they were—Wyatt said, ‘I did. I’m happy to see I’m succeeding.’
She shook her head and looked up, and for the first time he noticed her hair wasn’t loose. Usually, she wore her curls wild and free; today, her hair was tied back into a stern bun. Sleek, sure, but tamed to within an inch of its life. It bothered him.
Or maybe what bothered him was the hunger that was restless in his body. As if his cells had been starved and were now being offered a feast. Which was, he supposed, not untrue. For two years, his eyes had been starved of the beauty of her face. He couldn’t blame them for wanting to sate their hunger, despite the anger; despite the hurt.
So he allowed them to sweep over the oval slope of her brown eyes; the curve of her cheekbones; the dusting of freckles on the skin of her cheeks. He let them check whether the slight scar at her temple was still there, and if her lips were still pink and full and perfect for kissing.
He stopped himself then, because thinking about kissing and Summer at the same time was taking it too far. The prickling of his body told him so, as did the way those pink, full lips of hers parted. Which made him realise his eyes had dropped to her lips and had stayed there. That he was now showing her his hunger; revealing to her his feasting.
Though he warned himself not to, his eyes lifted to hers, and their gazes locked. A stampede could have passed them, the animals hurling themselves off the edge of the cliff, and he wouldn’t have noticed. He would have just kept looking into Summer’s eyes. He would have kept trying to see if his tainted past had been worth sacrificing that pull between them, especially when it still seemed to be alive and kicking.
He stepped back at the unexpected thought. When he realised it took him closer to
the cliff, he took a step to the side. In his current state, being close to anything that might put him at risk of falling wasn’t a good idea.
So run away from Summer, then, a voice in his head told him.
He swallowed.
Copyright © 2019 by Therese Beharrie
ISBN-13: 9781488043611
Captivated by the Millionaire
First North American publication 2019
Copyright © 2019 by Nilay Nina Singh
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