‘You go inside and pack,’ he said mockingly. ‘We leave on Monday.’
‘Monday!’ She stared at him in shock, her ears buzzing.
He nodded. ‘My driver will pick you up at nine. Try not to keep him waiting too long.’
Addie was starting to feel somewhat overwhelmed, both by the speed of these arrangements and this unsettling reminder of Malachi’s wealth.
But, determined not to show her discomfort or lack of sophistication, she merely nodded. ‘Leave for where? New York? France? The moon?’
Even to her own ears her voice sounded high and petulant, and she blushed as he laughed softly.
‘The Caribbean. I own an island there—off Antigua.’ Glancing at her astonished expression, he grinned.
‘Y-you own an island?’ She had given up trying to play it cool. ‘What kind of island?’
‘The usual kind.’ He gave her a slow, teasing smile. ‘White sand. Palm trees. Paradise on earth.’
Her head was spinning; questions were flying in every direction. But he was already back in the car.
‘Wait!’ Stepping forward, she hammered on the window, her breath churning in her throat as it slid down.
He leaned forward, a teasing smile on his handsome face. ‘What’s the matter? Are you missing me already?’
She frowned. Away from his touch, with the cooling breeze on her skin, her head was clearing. ‘I need to know what to pack.’
He laughed, his eyes gleaming. ‘It’s a honeymoon, sweetheart. You don’t need to pack anything at all!’
CHAPTER FOUR
IN THE TINY bedroom of her apartment, Addie stood staring despairingly at the half-empty holdall on her bed. She had woken early and, after nearly an hour of lying in the darkness, had finally got out of bed with the intention of being calm and collected by the time Malachi’s car arrived to pick her up. Yet somehow she wasn’t anywhere near ready and, pushing down the swell of panic rising inside her, she sat down on her bed with a thump.
It was all happening so fast—too fast. Three days ago she hadn’t seen or spoken to Malachi for five years. Now she was going away with him for a month. Alone. Today. This morning.
The thought was like a jolt of electricity passing through her body, and mechanically she began to fold her clothes and pack them in the bag.
After Malachi had driven off she’d felt exhausted—almost as though she’d just completed some arduous Herculean challenge. Lifting her hand, she pressed her fingers to her lips, remembering the bruising heat of his kisses.
Frankly, Hercules had it easy! She’d take defeating monsters any day over trying to resist the charms of her husband who, in his own devastating way, could cause the same mayhem and misery as any three-headed dog. Unlike the three-headed dog, however, he didn’t serve some angry god. He was entirely self-serving and always, however reasonable he appeared, got exactly what he wanted.
Although, to be fair, she had wanted it too. Her cheeks grew warm. More than wanted it. It had been frantic, unstoppable, an almost primeval surge of need to feel his hands on her body again, his mouth on her mouth...
And he’d been the one to pull away, and it was only later that she’d realised how close she’d come to letting him make love to her in the back of his car.
It had been a shock to discover just how much she still wanted him. But a bigger shock was the realisation that instead of shame or regret she’d felt almost elated by what had happened. Elated and aroused. She bit her lip. Since splitting up with Malachi her job had more or less taken over her life. Sometimes she went to the gym, or met friends after work. But mostly she just ate her dinner on the sofa before falling into bed alone. There certainly hadn’t been any romance.
Only now she was going to spend a month on a private Caribbean island. With Malachi. A man whose touch had tormented and tamed her.
She breathed out slowly.
She was almost certainly going to regret this trip. But those few snatched moments of release in the limousine had at least proved to her what she’d known but denied for so long. That she wasn’t completely over Malachi; that in some intangible, incomprehensible way she still felt married to him.
She winced. Put like that, it sounded mad. But she wasn’t living under any delusions. This ‘honeymoon’ wasn’t some last-ditch attempt to save their relationship. Quite the reverse, in fact. It was a coda: a bittersweet and fitting finale to a marriage that had never been quite what it seemed—to her, at least. At least this time their relationship might actually be more straightforward, more honest, despite, or maybe because it involved a simple trade-off: sex for money.
This time her heart was definitely off limits. This deal would only involve her body—and only for a limited period. And, of course, a large amount of money.
She zipped the bag shut.
Did that make her shallow? Mercenary. Immoral.
No, it did not, she thought defiantly.
She’d never asked him for anything. Not a single cent. And she still hadn’t. This was for her charity. But seeing him again had made her realise that she couldn’t keep avoiding the past. Finally she was ready to bring an end to all the years spent wondering, hoping, aching. And that meant being with her husband one last time. She let out a long, slow breath. So why not make the most of it?
After all, there were a lot worse ways to spend a month than being on a private island with a sexy, handsome billionaire.
At the thought of Malachi’s island she felt a flicker of fear. How was she going to survive the two of them being alone on a deserted island?
By sticking to the rules. Kissing was almost unavoidable and, knowing Malachi, if he thought she was trying to avoid kissing him he’d simply see it as a challenge. But there would be no touchy-feely stuff—the sort of things couple did without thinking—because this was a business arrangement and there was no point in blurring the boundaries.
She also expected to be treated with respect. Okay, he had the money, but this arrangement was only going to work if she made it clear that while her body might have a price she, Addie, was beyond even his wealth. The remnants of her pride required that she demand that at least.
And if it all got too unbearable she could always catch a plane back to Miami. She wasn’t so destitute that she couldn’t afford an airfare home!
Beside her on the bed her phone vibrated and, picking it up, she glanced at the screen and felt her heart jolt. The car would be arriving in twenty minutes. Just enough time to dry her hair and find her passport and double-check that Carmen knew she was in charge of the office for the next four weeks.
Thirty minutes later, wearing a short navy wraparound skirt and an embroidered cream silk blouse, she was sitting in the back of the limousine, trying her hardest to look as though it was something she did every day of her life. Tucking her legs to one side, she glanced down at her high-heeled navy court shoes and frowned. She hardly ever wore heels outside of work, and they were not the most practical footwear for a beach holiday, but she wanted a reminder of why she was there: a private nudge to herself that this was not personal but business. And, anyway, she needed the extra height if she was going to square up to Malachi’s six-foot-two frame.
Feeling the car slow, she glanced out of the window and saw that they’d arrived at a large private airfield. And then her breath seemed to lodge in her throat as she saw the sleek white plane, emblazoned with the King Industries logo, gleaming on the runway. Beside it a line of stewards stood, waiting on the tarmac, all looking as though they’d just stepped out of the pages of Italian Vogue, and suddenly she felt like a rather unprepared understudy about to step on to a West End stage.
Who were they expecting? What had Malachi told them?
She would soon find out.
As the limousine swung smoothly to a stop and the door beside her opened she took a deep breath, swung her legs out of the car and stepped onto the tarmac.
Immediately the nearest steward walked swiftly towards her, smiling. ‘Good mo
rning, Ms Farrell. My name is John. I’m the chief steward on this flight and I will be taking care of you today. Welcome to King Airlines.’
Inside the plane, Addie had to clench her jaw to stop it from falling open. She’d flown before. She’d even been upgraded to business class once. But this—
Trying not to gawp, she gazed slowly around.
It was not like the interior of any plane she’d ever travelled on. Rather than banks of seats with a central aisle, there was a large open-plan lounge area that spanned the width of the plane. Between huge leather sofas, vases filled with freesias stood on top of mirror-topped tables. There was also a bar!
Five minutes later she was sitting at one end of a sofa, sipping a perfect cappuccino from a fine bone china cup, when a door at the end of the cabin opened and Malachi sauntered towards her across the carpet.
‘Sorry, sweetheart. This trip of ours has thrown quite a few balls up into the air. I needed to meet with some people just to make sure somebody catches them while I’m away.’
Before she had a chance to reply, he dropped down onto the sofa beside her and in one seamless movement took the cup from her unprotesting hands, jerked her onto his lap and kissed her so deeply that she came up gasping for breath. He tasted of sunlight and oranges, and despite the chill of the air conditioning his skin was warm.
‘I missed you.’
His eyes were fixed on her lips and his face was so golden and perfect that for a moment she couldn’t even remember how to speak, let alone what to say. She looked up at him warily as he grinned down at her, the brightness of the day lighting up the shards of silver in his eyes.
‘This is where you’re supposed to say, I missed you too!’ he said softly.
She felt her insides tighten, every inch of her body responding to the pressure of his arm curling around her waist and the teasing note in his voice.
‘It’s only been two days.’ She arched an eyebrow, hoping that she appeared more composed than she felt. ‘You survived five years before that.’
‘How do you know I survived?’
Something flickered across his face, too fast for her to catch.
‘Maybe I was confined to bed. Weakened and distraught.’
‘Then somebody very like you was out and about in Miami,’ she retorted tartly. ‘Attending civic functions and charity dinners. You might want to look into that when you get back. Identity theft is a serious business!’
His eyes glittered. ‘I’m flattered you kept such a close eye on my whereabouts—’
‘I did not—’ she protested, but her voice frayed, the hot seam of words unravelling as his hand brushed against her blouse.
‘I like this,’ he murmured, fingering the silk. ‘It’s kind of demure yet sexy.’
As his gaze drifted slowly over her legs and down to her shoes, his eyes hardened in a way that made her stomach start to spasm.
‘And I like those too.’
His hand slipped beneath her blouse, cool fingers sliding over her hot skin so that she stirred against him, feeling the shift in his breathing. And then, abruptly, he groaned and, gently tipping her off his lap and back onto the sofa, edged away from her.
‘Damn it, Addie!’ He was grimacing as though in pain.
‘What is it?’ She stared up at him dizzily, her head still reeling from the havoc his fingers had wrought upon her, feeling the absence of his warm body almost like an amputation.
Shaking his head, he gave her a wry smile. ‘I’ve got a room full of people back there, waiting for me to sign off on a business plan, and you’ve got me so het up I’m not sure I can even spell my name—let alone write it.’
It took a couple of seconds for her to register what he was saying. That she would have to wait. Meeting his gaze, she saw the soft, taunting glimmer in his grey eyes and felt her temper start to flare. Was that how it was going to be? Him taking every opportunity to remind her that he was the one calling the shots.
Of course it was.
Right from the start Malachi had been the one dictating the terms of their arrangement. And, typical Malachi, he’d done it with a slow, teasing smile on that handsome face of his. And so of course, now she was here on his private jet, the ultimate symbol of his wealth and power, he would make her wait—presumably to demonstrate that no matter how equal the sexual attraction between them was, he was always in charge.
It was all she could do to stay sitting on the sofa. But she couldn’t keep threatening to walk out on him like some Hollywood diva who didn’t like her dressing room. The fact was she had agreed to this ludicrous charade, and she’d known right from the start that he was going to enjoy tormenting her. Her skin tightened as she remembered exactly how good he was at tormenting her. How he’d used to love to keep her hanging on so that she was frantic, wild, almost out of her mind with sexual need.
Dragging her mind back to the present, she gritted her teeth. The mature response—the only response—was not to dignify it with any response at all and so not give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’d got under her skin. But just because she’d agreed to come on this trip, it didn’t mean she was some sort of concubine. She just needed to find a way to remind Malachi of that fact.
For a moment they stared at one another in silence, and then finally she shrugged. ‘It’s fine. I can entertain myself,’ she said, reaching into her handbag. She pulled out a large paperback book. ‘I thought this might come in useful on this trip,’ she said sweetly.
His eyes locked on to hers.
‘Emotional Intelligence in the Adolescent Mind. Sounds gripping. But I thought you were here to mess with my body. Not my mind.’
The thought of what form that messing might take made Addie’s tongue stick to the roof of her mouth, but despite her hot cheeks she lifted her chin to stare at him. ‘It’s actually very interesting and informative,’ she said loftily.
‘I’m sure it is.’ His eyes mocked her and, blowing her a kiss, he turned and sauntered out of the cabin.
He was back in less than half an hour. As he strode across the carpet every inch of him was humming with energy, like a racing car on the starting grid.
‘All done!’ His voice was hard with triumph. Collapsing onto the cushions beside her, he leaned over and picked up a handful of strawberries, tearing into them with white, even teeth. ‘And now you have my full and undivided attention.’ He plucked the book from her hand and dropped it casually onto the nearest table. ‘Now, where were we?’ His gaze slid down over her face, down lower to the pulse beating at the base of her throat. ‘Oh, yes... Why don’t you come over here and sit back on my lap?’
She stared at him in silence, too angry to reply in case she lost her temper. Did he think he could just swan back in and click his fingers and she’d come running? That she’d drop whatever she was doing or have it dropped by him.
She glanced across at the book. Take control! she told herself. Show him that he can’t walk all over you. He might have the plane and the limo and the money—especially the money. But he can’t have you, not unless he works for it!
‘I’ve got a better idea,’ she said slowly. Standing up, she smoothed her skirt over her thighs, watching his eyes drift down to the hem and then back up to meet her face.
‘Why don’t we get out of here? Go somewhere a little more private?’ His gaze was suddenly so focused, so intense, it made her stomach curl into a knot. But, ignoring the pulse leaping in her throat, she smiled at him coolly. ‘Shall I just pick a door? Or do you want to show me the way?’
Staring straight ahead, she kept her eyes glued to his broad back as Malachi led her up a floating spiral staircase to what must be the private quarters of the plane. She held her breath. He wasn’t even touching her but already her skin was quivering, the blood slowing and thickening in her veins. She wanted him so badly—but more than that she wanted him to want her as much, even more than she craved him. To be in thrall to her. She wanted to have power over him, to get past that mask and beneath
that beautiful, lazy smile and see that formidable self-control slip away.
Her muscles gave an involuntary twitch. They had reached the top of the staircase. There was a moment of tense, pulsing silence and then, pushing open a door, he stepped aside. After a fraction of a second she walked past him. It was another, slightly smaller lounge. There were a couple of gilt-framed mirrors on the walls and on top of several narrow, pale wood tables piles of paperback books vied with one another for space. Looking up, she found Malachi watching her, his eyes more black now than grey, and she felt her body respond to their darkening.
‘So,’ he said softly. ‘Here we are. “Somewhere more private”.’
His words snagged on her skin and, pulse jerking, she nodded, trying to stay calm. ‘It feels different. Less—’
‘Flashy?’ For a moment he looked younger, more earnest.
‘I was going to say formal,’ she said carefully.
He laughed. ‘How worryingly diplomatic of you.’ He stared past her. ‘Downstairs is just an extension of my office. It has to present a certain version of me. Up here is mine.’
Some of his tension had slipped away and she stared around, liking the comfort and the easy elegance. ‘What’s through there?’ She gestured to a door at the other end of the room.
‘It’s a gym and a steam room.’
‘What about up there?’ She pointed to more curving steps that seemed to hang magically in the air. There was a moment of pulsing silence. He turned and his gaze slipped over her skin like warm silk. Suddenly she could feel her blood racing through her body like wild mustangs.
‘Come and see.’ He held out his hand.
She stared at it for a moment, letting his words hang in the air, needing a moment to clear her head of the pulsing beat of her heart.
Do it, she urged herself again. Do it on your terms. Take control.
Taking his hand, she slipped past him, turning at the bottom of the staircase. ‘I think I can find my way from here.’
She walked up the stairs slowly, his hand clasped in hers. At the top she stopped and stared—at a bed.
Claiming His Wedding Night Page 6