by Robyn Grady
“Phuket has lovely beaches. I’m sure I won’t mind sand instead of sheets occasionally.”
Her seductive smile did more than warm him. He filled his lungs imagining the scents and sounds of the Thailand paradise. “Moonlight shimmering over water, palm fronds gently swaying. I can picture it now.”
She slanted her head. “It is hot?”
“Very,” he replied.
“Can you picture me?”
“More clearly than anything.”
“What am I wearing?”
He drank in her lips. “Aside from the flower in your hair, what do you think?”
“Armand, what a splendid evening!”
Armand’s nostrils flared and his backbone stiffened as Matthew Mohill’s regal frame stalked out from behind a group of guests. On his tuxedoed arm hung a demure-looking blonde.
Cornered, and not happy about it, Armand filed thoughts of Phuket aside to take care of pleasantries. “May I present my wife, Tamara.”
Matthew’s smile might have been genuine. “It’s delightful to meet you.” On taking her hand, he noticed the ruby and his high forehead crept back more. “Armand…” He coughed out a humorless laugh. “I’m a little surprised. This ring doesn’t have fond memories for you.”
Heat accumulated around Armand’s collar. Had he once thought this man a friend? His words barely made it past his teeth. “Now it does.”
“Armand explained its past.” Tamara beamed into her new husband’s eyes. “I fell in love with the ruby at first sight.”
Matthew seemed to chew on that before he pivoted toward his own companion. “I don’t believe either of you know my bride.”
Eager little Evie stepped forward. “Such a beautiful ceremony! What a gorgeous backdrop, with all those summer flowers and the perfect weather. I’m so glad it wasn’t too hot. And releasing butterflies from those Renaissance urns at the end…” Evie emitted a long dreamy sigh.
Smiling, Tamara tipped her head. “I thought it was a nice touch.”
Evie blinked. “You thought of that?”
Armand took the opportunity to brag on his wife’s behalf. “Tamara organized everything, including a fireworks display scheduled as a finale tonight.”
Evie giggled. “Sounds like you have a knack, Tamara. Maybe you should start a business.” Though he flinched, Armand was certain no malice was intended.
Evie looked at Matthew with the same adoration Armand had seen in Tamara’s eyes a moment ago. “Our wedding was beautiful, too, wasn’t it, darling? On the beach, orchard leis around our necks. You looked so handsome.”
Armand lifted a brow. That affection wasn’t manufactured. And for the life of him, he couldn’t see this woman goading Matthew into unsheathing his corporate sword. She looked more like a dove than a war hawk. Dammit all, if things were different, he could share in their happiness rather than plot against it, or, more specifically, Matthew’s attempt to seize control of DLE.
“We have some news,” Matthew said, returning his attention to the newly married couple. “You’re the first to know. We’re expecting.”
Armand’s grip on his glass, and Tamara’s waist, tightened. “Expecting what?”
Matthew chuckled. “A baby, Armand! A child. Maybe two.”
Evie’s mahogany-colored eyes gleamed. “Twins run in my family. We’d love a boy and girl straight off. We’ve already chosen names.”
The room was spinning…chandeliers, waiters…but all Armand could see was Matthew’s thin top lip sweeping into a “beat-cha” grin.
Tamara performed a duty of which Armand, at the moment, was incapable. She came forward and hugged Matthew’s young wife. “I’m so happy for you.” Her voice rang with honesty. Evie was someone you just had to like. “When are you due?”
Evie looped her arm through Matthew’s. “I’m fourteen, almost fifteen weeks.”
Tamara gasped. “Really!”
Armand’s squeezed Tamara’s arm to silence her. Their baby was the same gestational age. It might be wise to keep your enemies close. It was also wise to keep the best up your sleeve for the surprise attack.
He knew what Matthew had planned. 9:00 a.m. on Armand’s birthday, he would lodge the necessary paperwork to finalize that explicit term in Dante’s will—no De Luca child and that margin of controlling interest would remain with the trustee, should the trustee so deem.
The ironic thing was Dante had trusted Matthew, as a man would trust his own brother to do right by his son. That clause had been nothing more than a solid nudge for Armand to marry and ensure DLE remained, largely, a family concern. Dante would never have believed Matthew would take advantage of the situation and convince himself he was entitled to more than his share.
Matthew spoke directly to Armand, his ice-blue gaze challenging. “We were speaking with Riley Peters and Jack Gibson. Fellow board members,” he explained to Tamara. “They were remarking on how well we went last set of figures.”
Armand sent what might be interpreted as an easy smile. “Good to hear there’s no complaints over how the company’s run.”
Matthew pulled a pained faced. “I did hear unhappy rumblings about the expansion issue.”
Armand drew a knife. “Hear, or instigate?”
Matthew pretended offence. “Just passing it on, son.”
Armand was about to demand Matthew back away from calling him “son,” but he’d been reeled in far enough. His wedding reception was not the place for a showdown. He respected his wife’s feelings too much for that.
Beside him, Tamara gave her apologies. “Would you excuse me? A couple of friends are frantically waving me over. I haven’t caught up with them yet. Kristin and Melanie,” she said to Armand and he nodded. Tamara took Evie’s hand. “Best wishes for the baby. It’s an exciting time.”
Matthew affected a bow as Tamara moved off. “I was going to mingle more myself after mentioning that Barclays had done well, too.”
Armand dropped his glass. It bounced, then broke on the carpet while Tamara froze midstep. Frown quizzical, she turned slowly back.
A waiter rushed over, wiping the drink spilt over Armand’s shoes. Evie stepped back, a protective hand on her tummy while Matthew brushed his lapel.
“What did you say?”
Matthew met Tamara’s perplexed gaze in a way that suggested he hadn’t heard properly. He’d heard her just fine. Matthew had set him up. He should have anticipated something like this. Matthew had delved into his bride’s past, hoping to stir and fling some mud. He knew Barclays was the company that neglected to pay Tamara’s business invoice months ago.
What else did Matthew know?
The older man edged around to Tamara. “I mentioned Barclays have done extremely well. They’re a big hardware chain.” Naive Evie nodded, as if that explained it all. “Have you taken some interest in DLE’s subsidiaries, my dear?”
Tamara blindly set her flute on a passing waiter’s tray. Her face was ashen, dazed. “Barclays…” She looked to Armand and questioned, pleaded, with those big green eyes. He held the cool column of her arm and shot Matthew a glare meant not to harm but annihilate.
While Matthew merely raised a brow, Armand gathered unbelievable control to address his wife. “Nice meeting you, Evie.”
He moved Tamara off to a relatively quiet corner of the room, a semicircle alcove with wedding gifts stacked high to toppling on a table.
Her words were threadbare. “Matthew said Barclays is a subsidiary of DLE.” Her short laugh held a hysterical note. “He’s wrong.” Her brows opened up. “Isn’t he?”
“This isn’t the time. We’ll discuss it later.” He gripped her forearms. “I just need to reassure you—”
“You knew, didn’t you?”
Her voice was a flat line. Her eyes were devoid of light. The almighty knot in Armand’s gut pulled and twisted ’til he groaned. “I didn’t know…not at first.”
Tamara slumped as if a bullet had struck her chest. “You knew and didn’t tell me?”
“It’s not that simple.”
The pain in her eyes hardened. “You can say that again.”
A high-pitched female voice flew over their heads, rebounding off the curved wall making it sound ten times more invasive. “Tamara! Oh, my God, you look like a fairy tale princess.”
Heartbeat running amok, Armand stepped aside as either Kristin or Melanie hugged Tamara, who responded with the vibrancy of a rag doll. Then the next twin had her squeeze.
One of them held out her hand for Armand to accept. “I’m Kristin.” She indicated the other. “My sister, Melanie. We just want to say how totally thrilled we are for our friend. Absolutely no one deserves happiness more.”
He pinned on an appropriate smile. “Thank you for coming. We appreciate you both sharing our day.”
They chatted for a couple of minutes. Tamara seemed subdued but at least partway recovered by the time Armand bowed off to track Matthew down. Wedding reception or not, there was going to be a one helluva showdown.
His gaze swept the buzzing room like a laser beam. Matthew was not only shrewd, he was smart. He was gone, leaving Armand to clean up the mother of all messes.
Ten
Standing on the balcony, Tamara gazed over the night’s shimmering silk harbor then, fighting down a shiver, hugged herself. The air was sultry—typical “Down Under” Christmastime weather. The slight breeze, drifting in off the water, certainly wasn’t the reason she was trembling, even given her minimal clothing.
She’d left her wedding reception forty minutes ago. Had come directly to the bridal suite, slipped off her dress and drowned herself beneath a shower’s cold stinging spray. The water hadn’t washed away the humiliation. How could Armand have kept that information from her?
She was concentrating on the tiniest, loneliest-looking star in the velvet night sky when the suite’s door swooshed open. Pulse rate spiking, Tamara held her breath and listened to it click shut. Imagining her disgruntled husband moving through the expansive, plush room, she closed her eyes and waited. She was the one, not Armand, who should be upset. In fact, she was visibly shaking.
Although she stood with her back to the room, she sensed his overwhelming presence when he stopped to fill the doorway. Heartbeat jackhammering in her throat, she calmly turned, swaddling a matching light wrap more securely around the negligee she’d taken such care to choose last week.
Armand seemed unaware of her ivory-colored chiffon. His chest, beneath the white dress shirt, rose and fell with deep but even breathing while his intense gaze pierced and challenged hers. His normally ordered hair was mussed, jacket open, black tie undone and hanging. He’d never looked more untamed or more handsome.
His hand flexed at his side before he joined her by the railing. His voice was deep, strained, almost threatening. “You left without telling me.”
Her stomach muscles tugged, but she tried to ignore his raw sexuality and how much it affected her. “I made it ’til halfway through the fireworks display.” Her chin kicked up. “I think I should be congratulated.”
His frown hinted at disgust. “You make our wedding sound like a death sentence.”
“I certainly hope not.”
After a tense moment, he exhaled and rushed a hand through his hair. “I was held up with Mr. Zheng, the Chinese businessman I introduced you to.”
Tamara nodded. Armand had sent an invitation when he’d learnt that Mr. Zheng would be in Australia at the time of their wedding.
Armand seemed to struggle for a moment. “I tried to get away…I wanted to leave…” He fell back against the railing. “I couldn’t afford to offend him.”
Right now, she wasn’t interested in business associates, and neither should he be. Arms firmly crossed beneath her negligee’s lace bodice, she picked up where they’d left off before Kristin and Melanie had interrupted.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me DLE owned Barclays?”
Pulse leaping in his jaw, he cast a glance out over Sydney’s glittering cityscape. “Tamara, it’s no secret we own a sizeable piece of that hardware chain. DLE has a stake in dozens of companies.” He met her eyes. “What I didn’t know was Barclays was the company that refused to pay your invoice.”
Her fingers dug into their opposite arms as she mulled it over. His gaze was direct, open.
She let out a breath. Okay, so he hadn’t known about the connection between his subsidiary’s wrongdoings and her business’s downfall when they’d met. But he damn well should have told her when he’d discovered the truth. “When did you find out?”
His arms spread out to brace his weight against the rail. “Same day I discovered Matthew’s turnaround. I thought about telling you, but you were hovering on a ledge, deciding which way to jump. I thought you’d leap to conclusions. Take it the wrong way.”
Perhaps sensing a slight retreat in her frosty attitude, he tipped forward.
She moved back. “Didn’t you stop to think I might take it an even worse way when I did find out?”
The threat of tears prickled behind her eyes. She dropped her arms and bunched her hands, determined not to give in to emotion and cry. But she couldn’t stop her throat and face from flaming when she recalled Matthew Mohill’s triumphant gleam from those arctic-blue eyes. Armand was right. Any friendship they’d known before had been left behind by Matthew’s lunge to attain ultimate control.
How ridiculous. A lifelong friendship wasted for the sake of money when both Armand and Matthew already had plenty. Did men of power put any limit on the sacrifices they would make in order to succeed? How absurd that Matthew should value material gain more highly than what he’d freely tossed away. He’d resort to anything to help weaken Armand’s position, including detonating a bomb at his new rival’s wedding.
She swallowed against the lump forming in her throat. “Do you have any idea what it was like for me to discover my husband of hours, the man I trusted, had deceived me?”
He’d moved closer again without her noticing. One dark brow arched and his gaze dipped. “Is that negligee supposed to be a hint?”
She dammed a rush of warmth at his approving gaze and swept her wrap closer. “Don’t change the subject.”
His head cocked. “I didn’t think of it as deception.” His hand stole out and fingers toyed with hers. “I didn’t want to lose you.”
One of the splinters of hurt wedged beneath her ribs dissolved, but others remained. She’d wanted today to be perfect and the evening to be a night she would never forget. She’d daydreamed constantly about lying with Armand again, of experiencing the heady thrill of his mouth on her body, his hands coaxing her to amazing places she needed to visit again and again. Yet here they were, arguing.
The alternative was to forgive him, try to understand, but she wasn’t certain she could do that yet. Was this the kind of compromise she’d be expected to make from now on? “Marriage is supposed to be about making choices together. Respect, you said. Honesty. Those were the traditional values you wanted to uphold.” Her vision misted. “Didn’t you believe in the promises we made today?”
She had, with all her heart. When he’d recited those lines and she’d replied with her own, she had barely been able to speak for welling emotion—not from worry over making the wrong decision, but from certainty what she was doing was right. Her greatest wish had come true. She loved Armand as a wife should love a husband, with everything in her heart. But she’d given it all only to discover he’d held back.
His fingers twined around her hand as his eyes burned into hers. “Of course I believe in our vows. I only wanted to save you from any more pain.”
His thumb rubbed her wrist and the battle raging inside of her dropped a grade.
He understood, didn’t he? She didn’t want to be patronized. She wanted to be loved. But perhaps even more, she wanted to count—to be seen and heard. She wasn’t invisible. Never would be again.
He took her other hand and the tension locking her muscles eased another notch
. She searched his eyes. “I lost my house over that incident.”
His smile was supportive but also lopsided and sexy. “I’ll buy you a château in the south of France.”
She sighed heavily. “I don’t want a château.”
Still holding her hands, he gently twirled her under one arm in a dance move so he stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist. His graveled murmur brushed the sensitive shell of her ear. “The Barclays accountant was an imbecile. He’s gone.” His lips grazed her lobe. “If it makes any difference, yesterday I refunded the money owed to you as a bonus to your first week’s allowance.”
A shudder tripped up her spine. She tried to turn to face him, but his arms held and locked her in place. Her mouth tugged to one side. “Allowance. That makes it sound as if I’m being kept.”
“You’re my wife.” His chin gently scraped her cheek. “Did you think I wouldn’t look after you?” His mouth pressed against her temple and her insides began to glow and beat. “You know how much I care about you and the baby, don’t you?”
His crisscrossed hands slid apart, over her stomach and higher to cup her shoulders. Her head lolled back, eyes drifted shut and breasts tingled for his touch. She thought of the incident at Dr. Fielding’s and nodded. “Yes. I know.”
He cared, but did he love them—love her—the way she’d come to love him? Over these past weeks her feelings had climbed until she’d reached this summit. Perhaps that’s why his withholding something so important had hurt so much. She had truly expected the fairy tale ending. She thought he’d come to want that, too. He’d said as much before.
His palm dropped off her shoulder, taking both her wrap’s sleeve and negligee’s shoestring strap along with it. His mouth lowered to taste the spot. “Let’s not quarrel. Don’t you want to enjoy our wedding night?”
Of course she did. And with his mouth tracking the curve of her throat, his heat soaking into her back, it seemed impossible to verbally or physically deny.
She’d been justifiably upset. He was sorry he’d hurt her. He wouldn’t do it again. Any moment he would confess that he loved her. She felt that as surely as the undeniable desire sizzling through her veins.