The Return 0f Her Billionaire Husband (HQR Presents)

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  Joe lifted his mouth off hers and placed his hands on her hips, stepping back from her a fraction. ‘I think it might be time to stop.’ Something in his tone belied his words—the gruffness, the rueful note, the chord of longing so low she might have missed it if she hadn’t been feeling it herself.

  Stop? Now?

  When her body was screaming for the release it craved? And why the hell hadn’t she been the one to stop this madness? She felt hot shame flushing into her face and she shoved his hands off her hips and stepped further back, chest heaving as if she were an affronted heroine in a period drama. ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at, kissing me like that?’

  One of his ink-black eyebrows rose in a sardonic arc. ‘I could ask you the same question.’

  Juliette couldn’t hold his gaze and swung away. ‘I’m going to have a shower. It’ll soon be time to get up and get ready for the wedding anyway.’ She strode into the bathroom and locked the door, leaning back against it with a ragged sigh. Why had she allowed him to prove how weak she was? How vulnerable to his touch? How lacking in immunity?

  How dangerously ambiguous her feelings...

  * * *

  The wedding was to be held in the morning on the beach. Somehow Juliette had managed to shower and dress without running into Joe. He had left the suite while she was in the shower, and because she was heading to Lucy’s room for a hair and make-up session with the other bridesmaids she didn’t expect to see him again until the ceremony.

  Lucy handed Juliette a glass of champagne on arrival. ‘Get that into you. Now, tell me how last night went. Did you guys kiss and make up?’

  Juliette took the champagne but decided against taking anything but a token sip. ‘Let’s talk about you, not me. Are you nervous?’

  Lucy beamed. ‘Me? Nervous? I can’t wait to marry Damon.’ Her smile dimmed a little. ‘I just wish things were better between you and Joe. Are you sure there’s no hope of a reconciliation?’

  ‘It’s not what either of us wants.’

  ‘Are you sure about that? I saw the way he was watching you last night. He could barely take his eyes off you. And when you two were dancing, well, anyone would have thought you were—’

  ‘We’re not.’ Juliette’s tone was emphatic. She opened the long narrow box that contained Lucy’s hand-embroidered veil. ‘He slept on the sofa.’

  ‘Oh...’

  Juliette turned to look at her friend. ‘I don’t want your wedding to be spoilt by my dramas with Joe.’ She painted a bright smile on her face. ‘Now, let’s get you ready to marry the man of your dreams. Your dress looks amazing, by the way.’

  Lucy twirled this way and that in her voluminous tulle and satin dress. It made her mixed-race complexion look all the more stunning. ‘You don’t think I look too much like a meringue?’ There was a dancing light in her eyes. ‘It was a toss-up between this one and the figure-hugging one we looked at together in Mayfair but I’ve always wanted to be a princess for a day.’

  ‘You look exactly like a princess,’ Juliette said, trying to ignore a tiny jab of envy. ‘A princess in love.’

  * * *

  Joe stood next to Damon under the canopy of tropical flowers that had been set up on the beach. He was trying not to think of his own wedding, how different it was from this one. If he and Juliette had married in a more relaxed and informal setting, would it have helped? His goal had been to get married to her as soon as possible for the sake of the baby. The cold and austere village church where generations of her family had been christened, wed or buried would not have been his first choice. But he had wanted Juliette to feel supported by her family, given he had none to speak of.

  Damon nudged him. ‘Here they come.’

  Joe turned and saw Juliette leading the way up the flower-strewn red carpet that had been laid down on the sand. She was dressed in a deep blue satin dress the colour of the ocean that pulsed nearby. The dress clung to her body like a slinky glove, outlining the gentle swell of her hips, the narrow waist, the slight globes of her breasts. There was a garland of flowers in her hair, giving her an A Midsummer Night’s Dream, almost ethereal look. His chest tightened, his breath stalled, his guilt throbbed. He had failed her in so many ways. He had made promises to love and protect her but he had failed on both counts. Romantic love was something he had never committed to. He doubted it even existed except perhaps in rare cases.

  It had certainly never existed for him.

  But seeing Juliette walking towards him now, something shifted in his chest. A slippage. A softening. A tightly locked space slowly opening...

  He snapped it shut. Bang. Bolted the door.

  He was comforted by the all too familiar jolt of his emotions shutting down. It was safer not to feel too deeply. To leave stray feelings unexplored. To deny them access through the firewall of his control tower.

  Juliette met his gaze and a tremulous smile formed on her lips. The soft lips he had kissed early that morning and only just managed to stop kissing before he lost control. Kissing her made him realise how dangerous it was to be around her. It made him want her. Need her. Crave her. But how could he hope for a rerun of their relationship? What right did he have to insist on a second chance? It would only cause more pain, more heartache. It was practically his brand—projecting pain, heartache and loss onto the people he cared about. It was better he didn’t care. It was better he didn’t want. It was better not to hope.

  Her gaze moved away and a sense of disappointment sank in his stomach like a stone.

  Her smile was for the crowd, for appearances’ sake.

  It wasn’t for him.

  * * *

  Juliette couldn’t look at Joe without blushing over their kiss that morning. She couldn’t look at him and not think about their own wedding. Their cold and duty-bound wedding where the promises he made had meant nothing.

  But had hers meant something? Anything? Juliette gave an inward frown, wondering why her conscience was bringing this up now. She hadn’t been the one to insist on marriage. She had done the right thing in telling him he was to be a father, to give him the option of being involved or not. She could have refused his offer... Why hadn’t she?

  Juliette stood to one side of Lucy and Damon as they exchanged their vows. Both had tears shining in their eyes, their love for each other plain to see. She glanced at Joe to find his gaze trained on her, his expression grave. She bit her lip and looked away again, her heart feeling as if squeezed by an invisible hand.

  Maybe she had judged Joe too quickly. Hadn’t her parents always complained about her impulsive nature? Her tendency to act first, ask questions later had often caused her to regret her actions in hindsight. She had not only not asked Joe the questions, she hadn’t even allowed him to contact her. She had blocked him at every turn.

  It was excruciatingly painful to confront her role in the breakup of their relationship. Would she be making a huge mistake in pursuing a divorce? But how could their marriage continue if Joe didn’t love her?

  The newly married couple kissed and the guests clapped and cheered and again Juliette was reminded of the brief kiss Joe had given her at their wedding, and the less than enthusiastic applause from the handful of guests, her parents in particular.

  After Lucy and Damon’s official photos were taken further along on the beach, the mostly informal and relaxed reception was held in the villa’s ballroom overlooking the beach.

  Juliette got up to dance with three of the other groomsmen to avoid dancing with Joe. She was worried she would betray herself in his arms, reveal things about herself she knew she shouldn’t be feeling while she had divorce papers to hand to him. Dance after dance, drink after drink, she worked the room as if she had graduated as star pupil at Social Butterfly school. But inside she was shrivelling up, struggling to cope with pretending to be happy. One of the guests—another cousin of Damon’s—was hea
vily pregnant and every time Juliette looked at her she felt a hammer-blow of sadness crash over her.

  Juliette took yet another glass of champagne off a passing waiter and turned to find Joe standing beside her.

  ‘Is that a good idea?’ He nodded towards her glass, his expression brooding.

  She arched her brows. ‘Since when did you join the Temperance Society?’

  He took the glass out of her hand and placed it on a nearby table. ‘I think you’ve had enough.’

  ‘I think you need to back off,’ Juliette said, glowering at him. ‘Just because you’re not having a good time doesn’t mean I can’t.’

  ‘Are you having a good time?’ His gaze was as pointed as his tone. But then he released a heavy breath and added with a frown, ‘You’re pretending, just like I am. But doing a much better job of it than me.’

  Some of Juliette’s anger faded. She couldn’t explain why—it just slumped inside her like a windless sail. ‘It’s a form of torture, isn’t it? Watching other people being happy.’

  ‘Sì.’

  Juliette tried to read his expression but it was like trying to read a cryptic code. Or maybe it was because her head was starting to pound from all the champagne she’d consumed. Or maybe it was because she knew she was getting closer to the moment when she would hand Joe the divorce papers. She couldn’t allow her defences to let her down now. She had come on a mission to get those papers signed. One kiss did not a reconciliation make. She pinched the bridge of her nose and winced. ‘I think I need to go to bed. Do you think Lucy and Damon would be offended if I slipped away now before they leave?’

  Joe glanced to where the happy couple were dancing cheek to cheek. ‘No. I don’t think they’ll mind. Come on—’ he held out his hand ‘—I’ll walk you back to our room.’

  * * *

  Joe led Juliette back to their room. Their room. One last night suffering the torture of having her close enough to touch. Close enough to remember the potent magic that brought them together in the first place. Close enough to regret how he had handled every step, every stage of their relationship. Close enough to wonder if there was a chance—a slim chance—she would consider trying again.

  The idea crept into his head and looked around for a place to get comfortable, pushing his conscience, his fears, his doubts out of the way. He wasn’t imagining the chemistry still between them, was he? It was as strong and pulsing as ever. Their kiss had proven how strong their connection still was.

  How could he forgive himself for not at least exploring the possibility of reconciling?

  Joe closed the door of their room but he realised immediately his timing was way off. Not only was there a fold-out bed set up in the sitting room area but Juliette looked tense and on edge. Her teeth chewed at her lip, her eyes not quite meeting his.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  She nodded and sat on the sofa and held a scatter cushion against her body like a shield. ‘I will be. I just need a glass of water.’

  Joe fetched her one and brought it back to where she was sitting. She took the glass from him, guzzled down the water and then handed the glass back. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Another one?’

  ‘Not right now...’ She tossed the cushion aside and reached for her phone in her purse and switched it off silent. ‘I forgot I promised I’d send my mother a picture of Lucy and Damon.’ She clicked the necessary keys and the sound of the message pinging through cyberspace filled the silence. She continued to look at her phone, her forehead wrinkling in a frown. ‘Joe?’

  ‘Mmm?’

  She lifted her head to look at him with a puzzled expression. ‘This email here that just popped into my inbox. Is it spam? It says you and I have been nominated for some sort of fundraising award. It says we’re Fundraising Couple of the Year.’ She held the screen up for him to inspect.

  Joe leaned down to read the email, and then straightened to take out his phone and clicked on his own emails. He was copied into the same email she had received. What sort of twisted irony was that? Couple of the Year? They were no longer a couple. He slipped his phone back in his pocket. ‘No, it’s not spam. Remember I told you I’d donated on your behalf? And raised funds through various other means. I sent you emails about it but you chose not to read them. There’s a fundraising dinner in Paris next month. We’ve been invited to go and—’

  Juliette sprang off the sofa as if one of the springs had poked her. ‘Are you out of your mind? I’m not going to Paris with you. It’s completely out of the question. Everyone will think we’re still together.’

  ‘So, what if they do?’

  ‘We’re not together, Joe.’ A stubborn edge came into her voice, her grey-blue eyes steely. ‘Just because we’ve shared a room this weekend doesn’t mean anything.’

  Joe took a deep breath. No way was he going to that fundraiser without her. It was the perfect opportunity to spend more time with her. This weekend wasn’t enough. How could it ever be enough when he wanted her this badly? ‘Juliette. This is not about us. It’s about helping others who experience what we went through. If we don’t show up as a united couple, then how will it look?’

  Her expression tightened. ‘It will look exactly as it is. We. Are. Separated.’ The emphasis on each word was like three punches to his gut. She went over to her tote bag in the corner of the room and pulled out some papers and came back to thrust them at him. ‘Here. I’ve been saving these for now.’

  Joe’s gaze narrowed as he saw what it was. Legal papers. Divorce papers. A pain spread like fire through his chest, searing through flesh, pulverising bone, taking away his breath.

  So, his time in limbo was over.

  Juliette had already made up her mind. She had come to their friends’ wedding with divorce papers for him to sign. It was over. No sequel. No reruns.

  The End.

  A streak of stubbornness steeled his spine and his gaze. Their marriage would end on his say-so, not hers. No way was he signing divorce papers at his best mate’s wedding weekend. He took the papers off her and tossed them onto the seat of the sofa as if they were nothing more than yesterday’s newspaper. ‘I’ll sign those when I’m good and ready. Come to Paris with me and then I’ll give you a divorce.’

  Her chin came up and her eyes flashed. ‘You’re blackmailing me?’

  He gave a grating laugh. ‘Damn right I am. What were you thinking, bringing those to your best friend’s wedding? I thought you had more class.’

  She picked up the legal papers and carefully fed them back inside the envelope. Her movements were calm and controlled but he could see the effort it cost her. Her jaw was tight, her mouth pressed flat, her anger a palpable presence in the room. She put the envelope back in her tote bag and faced him with fire and ice in her gaze. ‘We’ll discuss this again in the morning. I have a headache and don’t want to argue with you right now.’

  Joe locked his gaze on hers, his own anger stiffening his spine. Anger so thick and throbbing he could feel it pulsing in his veins like a thousand pummelling fists. ‘You’ll hear the same thing from me in the morning. I will not sign those papers until I’m good and ready. End of.’ He turned and walked out of the suite and closed the door behind him as firmly as a punctuation mark.

  * * *

  Juliette winced as the door shut behind him. She let out a ragged breath. That went well. She tugged at the pins holding her hair up and shook her head to loosen the strands. It didn’t help her headache, nor did the thought of confronting Joe again with the divorce papers. Why was he being so stubborn and obstructive? Hadn’t he said being together again was the last thing he wanted? Or was he interested in a little affair with her until after Paris? She couldn’t allow herself to be used in such a way. She wouldn’t allow herself to be exposed to more hurt when he failed to support her in the way she wanted. Needed. He was all for helping others in their situation, but what about he
lping her? Supporting her?

  When Juliette woke the next morning, after a fitful sleep, she found a note propped up on the bedside table, written in Joe’s distinctive handwriting.

  See you in Paris,

  Joe.

  She glanced around the room. His luggage was gone. There was no trace of him in the suite. It was as if he had never been there with her.

  Isn’t that the truth?

  She gritted her teeth and scrunched the note up in a ball and threw it at the nearest wall. ‘I’ll see you in hell first.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  One month later...

  JULIETTE WEIGHED UP the options of informing Joe she would be calling on him at his villa in Positano or showing up unannounced, to hand deliver the divorce papers. She would get those papers signed if it was the last thing she did. She’d had zero contact from him since Lucy and Damon’s wedding—not that she had contacted him either. Still seething with anger at the way he had issued her with an ultimatum, and the way he’d left without saying goodbye, it had taken her this past month to feel ready to face him again.

  She was not going to be controlled by his outrageous demands.

  In the end, Juliette decided to just show up at his villa, suspecting if she gave him the heads-up he might find a convenient excuse for not being there. She had heard via Damon that Joe was currently at his luxury villa high in the hills overlooking the Mediterranean ocean, so she was confident it wouldn’t be a wasted journey. Besides, she still had a key and, unless he had changed the locks, she would stay there until he returned even if it took a week or two. Those papers needed to be processed and they could only be processed if he signed them.

  That was her goal.

  Her mission.

  Get a divorce. Get on with her life.