Angelique turned back to look up at Remy. ‘Why do you come out here? It’s not the sort of place I thought you would be drawn to. It doesn’t really suit your party-boy image.’
He gave a shrug of one broad shoulder. ‘The Crown Prince is a friend of mine. We went to university together. I like to visit him now and again.’
‘Do you come here often?’ Angelique gave herself a mental kick for not rephrasing that a little less suggestively.
He gave her a wicked look. ‘No single, unchaperoned women in my room, remember?’
She compressed her lips. ‘I’m being serious. How many times do you, er, visit?’
He put his plate down on a nearby table. ‘Not as often as I’d like. I only get out here once a year. Two, if I’m lucky, like this year when I came out for Talib and Abby’s wedding.’
Angelique’s eyes widened to the size of the plate he’d just put down. ‘But...but why? What’s so great about it? I don’t see anything that’s relaxing or beautiful about it. It’s just a bunch of boring old sand dunes.’
He put his hand on her elbow and led her away to a quieter area. ‘Will you please keep your opinions to yourself until we’re out of danger?’ he hissed out of the corner of his mouth.
Angelique wriggled out of his hold, not because she found it unpleasant, but because she found she rather liked it. A lot. She hadn’t realised until now how much she had come to rely on him protecting her. To come to her rescue. She had blundered into a minefield and yet he had remained calm and steady throughout. Even cracking jokes about it.
Was he scared?
If so, he had shown little sign of it until now.
‘I’m sorry, but I’m not used to this,’ she said. ‘You’ve been coming here for ages. This is my first time. I’m what you would call a desert virgin.’
‘What about that bikini shot of you I saw in New York a couple of years back? You were draped over a sand dune with a couple of camels in the background.’
Angelique mentally raised her brows. So he’d seen that, had he? And taken note of it. ‘It was staged. The sand dunes were in Mexico and the camels were cranky and smelly. One of them even tried to bite me. It was a horrible shoot. The designer was impossible to please and I ended up with a massive migraine from sunstroke.’
A frown appeared between his eyes. ‘Why do you do it?’
She felt her back come up. She’d heard this lecture before, too many times to count. The most memorable one had been from him. ‘Why do I do what?’
‘Model. Put yourself out there in nothing but a couple of scraps of fabric.’ His tone sounded starchy and disapproving. Old-fashioned. Conservative. ‘You’re capable of so much more than being some gorgeous too-perfect-to-believe image young guys jerk off to when they’re in the shower.’
Angelique gave him an arch look. ‘Is that what you do?’
His eyes hardened. His mouth flattened. A muscle ticked in his jaw. On-off. On-off. ‘No.’ His tone was clipped. Too clipped. ‘I don’t think of you like that.’
He was lying.
Just like she had been lying about her hunger.
How...interesting.
The thought of him being turned on by her, orgasming because of her, was deliciously shocking. It made her flesh tingle. It made her juices run. It made her need pulse and ache to feel him come to completion with her, the real her, not some airbrushed image that didn’t even come close.
Are you out of your mind? The sensible part of her brain kicked in again.
You are not going to sleep with Remy. Whether he wants to or you want to.
Angelique looked up at him, noting the dull flush that had flagged both of his aristocratic cheekbones. ‘So, when do we get to step out of this charade? We can leave for the airport once this is over, can’t we? I’ve got my bag packed all ready to go. All you have to do is say the word and I’m out of here with bells on. Not the wedding variety, of course.’
His dark-brown eyes seemed to go a shade darker as they held hers. ‘We’re not leaving tonight.’
Angelique felt that fist of panic come back, but now it was two fists.
Two very big, very strong fists.
‘But why not? You have a private jet, don’t you? You can leave whenever you want.’ She swallowed and looked up at him hopefully. Desperately. ‘C-can’t you?’
Remy turned his back so anyone nearby couldn’t see his expression, his voice sounding low and deep, like a rumble of an imminent earthquake under the ocean floor. ‘There is a tradition we have to uphold. We can’t leave until we officially consummate the marriage.’
Angelique jerked back from him. ‘You’re joking. You have to be joking! There’s no way we have to do that! How would anyone know if we, um, did it or not?’
He gave her a levelling look. ‘We’d have to prove it.’
Her brows went up. Her eyes went wide. Her heart started to gallop. Her inner core got hot. Very hot. ‘You mean like witnesses or something? Oh my God, I can’t believe this! I’m so not a threesome person. I’m not even a twosome person. I—’ She clamped her mouth shut. She had given away too much as it was.
‘We’ll need evidence that you’re a virgin.’
Angelique blinked. ‘Pardon?’
‘Blood.’ He had his poker face on. ‘On the sheets. We have to display them the next morning.’
She gave him a narrowed look. ‘Whose blood?’
His mouth cracked in a half-smile. ‘Yours.’
Angelique sent him a fulminating glare. ‘I just knew you were going to say that. The only blood I want to see spilled right now is yours.’
‘You’re really hating this, aren’t you?’ His expression was amused.
Her eyes went to slits again. ‘By “this” I suppose you mean this ridiculous subservience.’
He gave one of his loose, get-over-it shrugs. ‘It’s the way things are done here.’
She shook with outrage. ‘But it’s the wrong way!’
‘The women here are happy.’ His voice was calm, measured. ‘They don’t have to do anything but be who they are. They don’t have to primp and preen. They don’t have to have a spray tan every week or put on false nails or colour their hair. They don’t have to pretend they’re not hungry when they’re starving, because they’re not going to be judged solely on their appearance. It is who they are on the inside that matters.’
He was describing a paradise...or was he?
She set her mouth. ‘That’s only because they probably don’t know what they’re missing. If just one woman gets a glimpse of what she could have, you could have total anarchy out here.’
An amused quirk tilted his mouth. ‘And I suppose you’d be out front and leading the charge of that particular riot?’
She gave him a beady look. ‘You’d better believe it.’
CHAPTER FOUR
REMY WAS ENJOYING every minute of his ‘marriage’ so far. It was so amusing to press all of Angelique’s hot buttons. He knew exactly what to say and how to say it—even the way to look at her to get a rise out of her. The reason he knew was because deep down he felt exactly the same.
Marriage was a trap.
It was stultifying. Restraining. A freedom-taking institution that worked better for some than for others.
And he was one of the others.
He didn’t like answering to anyone. He had spent too much of his life living under the shadow of his brothers and his grandfather. He wanted to make his own way, to be his own person. To be known as something more than a Caffarelli brother or grandson.
He didn’t want to be someone’s husband.
And as for being someone’s father... Well, he was leaving that to his two older brothers, who seemed pretty keen on the idea of procreating.
Remy was not interested in babies with scrunched-up faces and dirty nappies; sleepless nights, running noses, temper tantrums. Not for him. No way.
He was interested in having a good time. Playing the field. Working the turf. Sowing his oats—
the wild variety, that was.
And at times his life could get pretty wild.
He loved the element of risk in what he did—scoping out failing businesses, taking chances, rolling the dice. Chasing success, running it down, holding it in his hands and relishing the victory of yet another deal signed and delivered.
He was a gambler at heart, but not an irresponsible one. He knew where to draw the line, how to measure the stakes and to raise or lower them when he needed to.
And he was a firm believer in the golden rule of gambling: he only ever lost what he could afford to lose.
Besides, he’d already suffered the worst loss of all. Losing his parents so suddenly had been shattering. He still remembered the crushing sense of loss when Rafe had told him about their parents’ accident: the panic; the fear; the terror. It had made Remy feel that life was little more than a roll of a dice. Fate was a cruel mistress. Your life could be perfect and full one day, and terrifyingly empty the next.
Remy looked down at Angelique who was trying to disguise her fury at the little ‘proof of virginity’ story he’d spun her. He wondered how long he could spin it out. She looked so infuriated he thought she was going to explode. She probably had no idea how gorgeous she looked when she was spitting at him like a wild cat. He wouldn’t mind having those sharp little claws digging into his back as he rocked them both to paradise.
Are you out of your mind?
If you sleep with her you won’t be able to annul the marriage as soon as you get home.
Right. They would have to share a room—there would be no avoiding that—but he could always sleep on the sofa.
There had better be a sofa or you’re toast.
‘Right.’
Angelique looked up at him and Remy realised he’d spoken aloud. ‘Pardon?’ she said.
‘How’s your headache?’
She looked at him blankly for a moment. ‘My...? Oh yes; terrible. Absolutely excruciating.’ She put a hand to her temple again. ‘I’m getting blurred vision and I think I’m seeing an aura.’
‘We’d better get you to bed, then.’
The words dropped into the silence, suspended there, echoing with erotic undercurrents that were impossible to ignore.
‘To sleep,’ Remy said. ‘Just in case you were getting the wrong idea.’ Like his body had. It was already hard. Getting harder. Deep breath.
She angled her head at him suspiciously. ‘Why do I get the feeling you’re playing with me?’
He wanted to play with her all right. His body said yes but his mind kept saying no, or at least it was saying no so far. But how long would he be able to keep his hands off her? Theoretically she was the last woman in the world he wanted anything to do with. She was too high-maintenance. Too wild.
But, theory aside, when it came down to practice, well, he was only human. And she was hot. He normally preferred blondes but there was something about Angelique’s raven hair and creamy skin that had a touch of old-world Hollywood glamour about it. She walked into a room like a movie star. He didn’t think it was put on or something she’d learned on the catwalk. He’d seen her do it since she was a kid. She made an entrance. It was like she was making a statement: I’m here. What are you going to do about it?
She was here all right.
She was right, smack bang in the middle of his life and he couldn’t wait to get her out of it.
‘You take life too seriously, Angelique.’
‘That stuff about the sheets...’ She chewed her bottom lip for a moment. ‘That’s not really true, is it?’
Remy felt a sudden urge to ruffle her hair or pinch her cheeks like he would a little kid. She was so cute when she let her guard down. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her look that vulnerable and uncertain before. Angry, annoyed, irritated, yes—but vulnerable? No. If she felt it, she covered it well, but then who was he to talk?
‘Why?’ He kept his face deadpan. ‘Aren’t you still a virgin?’
She gave him a pert look. ‘Aren’t you?’
He laughed. ‘An emotional one, maybe, in that I’ve never been in love. But I’ve been around a few times.’
She gave her eyes a little roll. ‘I can just imagine.’
‘How many?’
‘How many...what?’
‘Lovers.’
She stilled, every muscle on her face seeming to momentarily freeze. But then she gave a little toss of her head and sent him haughty look. ‘I fail to see why that should be of any interest to you.’
‘I’m your husband.’
One.
Two.
Three.
Blast off.
Remy could time her down to a nanosecond. Her face went rigid again, her teeth clenching together, her eyes flashing at him like a turbulent gun-metal-grey ocean. ‘You’re enjoying every minute of this, aren’t you?’ she hissed at him. ‘I bet you can’t wait to get back to Italy or France, or wherever it is you live these days, to tell everyone how you tricked me into marrying you. You’ll be dining out on this and how you got Tarrantloch off my father for decades, won’t you?’
‘Calm down.’ Remy held up a hand like a stop sign. ‘I’m not the one who brought about this marriage. You’re the last person I would consider marrying if I was considering marriage, which I’m not, nor ever will be.’
‘Ditto.’
‘Fine. Then at least we’re square on that.’ He pushed his sleeve back and glanced impatiently at his watch. ‘I think it’s time this party was over. Come on. Let’s get out of here.’
Angelique followed him with feigned meekness as they said their goodnights to the other guests and officials. Her little white lie about her headache was now lamentably and rather painfully true. Her temples were pounding by the time she got to the suite with Remy. She felt nauseous and lightheaded and her heart began to pound once he closed the door and they were finally alone.
Alone.
In the bridal suite.
She affected a light and breezy tone. ‘Do you want to toss a coin for the bed?’
His dark-brown eyes looked darker than they had during the reception. She couldn’t make out the shape of his irises at all. He took a coin out of his pocket without breaking his gaze from hers and laid it on the back of his left hand, covered by his right. ‘Heads or tails?’
‘Heads.’
He flipped the coin high in the air and deftly caught it as it came back down, his gaze still locked on hers. ‘Want to change your mind?’
Angelique raised her chin. ‘Once my mind is made up I never change it.’
His mouth kicked up a little on one side, those dark-chocolate eyes gleaming. ‘Ditto.’
She leaned forward to see how the coin had fallen but he hadn’t uncovered it. He held it in his closed palm in the space between them. ‘Go on. Show me.’ Her voice sounded huskier than normal but she put that down to the fact he was in her personal body space. She could smell his citrus, wood and male smell. She could see the rise of fresh dark stubble on his jaw.
She could feel his desire.
It was pulsing in the air like sound waves. There was an answering throb in her body like an echo. Her inner core shifted. Tensed. Clenched. Hungered.
She suddenly became aware of her breasts inside the lacy cage of her bra. She became aware of her tongue as it moved out over her lips, depositing moisture to their surface. She saw his hooded gaze follow its passage and something in her stomach unfurled, as if a satin ribbon was being pulled out of its centre.
She took a little swallow. ‘Um...the coin?’
His gaze was still fixated on her mouth as if it were the most fascinating mouth in the whole wide world. ‘What about it?’ His voice sounded deep and rough around the edges.
‘I want to know who won.’
‘I did.’
Angelique frowned at his confident tone. ‘You can’t possibly know that without looking.’
His mouth went up at the corners again. ‘I have a sixth sense about this sort of stuff.
I won. You lost.’
She coughed out a little sound of scorn. ‘You think I’m going to fall for that without seeing the evidence? Open your palm.’
His eyes locked back on hers; they seemed to be glinting at the challenge she had laid down. ‘Want to make me?’ he said.
The floor of her belly shivered. He was near to impossible to resist in this mood. Was that how he bedded so many women? No wonder they fell like ninepins around him. He was just simply irresistible in this playful mood.
But Angelique didn’t do alpha males and Remy was very definitely an alpha male. It was in his blood. Had been born and bred to rule, to take charge, to take control and hold onto it no matter what. To lead, not to follow. He was too commanding, too sure of himself, too ruthless and way too sexy.
Too much a Caffarelli.
Too much of an enemy.
Too much of everything.
She hitched up her chin and squared her shoulders. ‘Thanks but no.’
His eyes glinted some more, moving slowly between her mouth and her gaze, burning, searing all the way. ‘Shame. I was looking forward to a little tussle for possession. It could’ve been fun.’
Angelique knew he wasn’t talking about the coin. She blew out an uneven breath. ‘You have the bed. You’re much taller than me.’ That was an understatement. He’d had to stoop through every door they’d been through so far. ‘I can curl up on the sofa.’
‘What sofa?’
She chewed her lip as she glanced around the suite. It had everything but a sofa. ‘Oh... Well, then...’
‘The bed is big enough for both of us. You stick to your side. I’ll stick to mine. It’s only for one night.’
Angelique tried to read his expression but he had his poker face back on. ‘I hope you don’t snore or talk in your sleep.’
‘If I do just give me a shove in the ribs.’
She gave him a frosty look. ‘I’m not going to go anywhere near you.’
A sexy smile tilted his mouth. ‘Then you’d be the first woman I’ve shared a bed with who hasn’t.’
* * *
Angelique spent an inordinate amount of time in the en suite cleansing her face and brushing her teeth. She even brushed her hair for a hundred strokes to delay going back into the bedroom. But when she came out of the bathroom there was no sign of Remy. He hadn’t even bothered to leave her a note to tell her where he had gone or when he would be back... Or whom he was with.
Never Gamble With a Caffarelli Page 4