Inconveniently Wed

by Yvonne Lindsay

  “But we both know where wanting will lead,” he continued. “And it’s not enough, is it?”

  Sorrow pierced her heart. “No, it wasn’t before... It isn’t now.”

  “We have more work to do before we allow ourselves the pleasure of each other again. Agreed?”

  She nodded solemnly. “Agreed.”

  Even though she knew he was right, it didn’t prevent regret from filling every empty space inside. She’d missed the physical side of a relationship, and the physical side of anything to do with Valentin had always been the pinnacle of perfection. It was just everything else that had destroyed her. That was what she had to remember. That was what she had to work on.

  “Imogene?” he prompted when she fell silent again.

  “Hmm?”

  “We can do this. I want to understand you better. I want you to understand me. And I want the physical aspect of our marriage, too. I’m prepared to wait so we can get the rest right this time.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly in response. “It means a lot to me.”

  “You mean a lot to me. You always did.”

  He’d hurt her so very badly. Had expected her to simply believe him when he said he hadn’t slept with Carla since their marriage. Hadn’t understood what she’d seen, what she’d been told, and had made no effort to. He’d made his statement, he’d stood by that and he’d expected her to believe him. But she couldn’t believe him. Not when she’d seen what she’d seen. And not when he exhibited every last trait of her father’s, a man made more attractive by his devotion to his duty, by his single-minded focus on what was right. Add into the mix his physical attributes and the adoration of the people around him and you had a dangerous mix. She’d always sworn she’d never marry a man like her father. Not for her, the life her mom had chosen—being a token wife while he pursued his calling and dallied in multiple sycophantic relationships.

  Was it too much to expect devotion from your partner? To be married to a man who saw fidelity as necessary in a successful marriage? No. Not in her book. And until she could be certain that Valentin was capable of that, she had to ensure she kept her guard very firmly up. Yes, she’d agreed to give this marriage a second chance, with the hope that one day she could have the children she dearly wanted. But she wasn’t going to put her heart on the chopping block for Valentin Horvath to destroy again.

  She had to be certain.

  * * *

  By the time they landed in New York they were both shattered. The layover time in Los Angeles had seemed to go on forever but at least they’d been able to sleep while in the air. Valentin thanked their driver after they pulled up outside his apartment building on Fifth Avenue. Light flurries swirled around them and across the road Central Park was shrouded in ice and snow. The wintry January climate was a vast change from the warm, humid air of Rarotonga.

  “I’ll take care of our cases, Anton. You head on home to your wife and kids,” he said as the man removed their cases from the trunk of the limousine.

  “Not a problem, Mr. Horvath.”

  “Seriously. It’s already past eight o’clock and I know how much you love reading to your girls.”

  “Then thank you, sir. I’ll pick you up at seven for work?”

  “Make it a little later tomorrow. Maybe eight?”

  “Whatever you say,” Anton said with a smile. “Enjoy your night, sir. Ma’am.”

  Imogene gave Anton a distracted smile and reached for the handle on her case as the car pulled away from the curb.

  “How could I forget how cold it is here?” she grumbled.

  “It’s not Rarotonga, that’s for sure. Here, let me take that,” Valentin offered.

  “Thanks,” she replied and looked skyward at the Neo-Italian Renaissance–style exterior of the building. “I had no idea you lived on the Upper East Side. Have you been here long?”

  “Since coming back from Africa. I love looking over the park.”

  “I bet the view is stunning.”

  “It is, although we’ll have to wait for a clear day for you to fully appreciate it. Let’s go up.”

  After a nod to the doorman and the concierge, they traveled up in a mirrored and wood-lined elevator that looked as if it was original to the building but ran as if it had been built yesterday. Smooth and silent. The doors slid open on the top floor.

  “Penthouse, no less,” she commented.

  Valentin wondered if she was regretting subletting her brownstone apartment in Brooklyn about now. Or if she was wishing that they’d kept separate homes while they found their way back into a lasting relationship.

  “I saw it and couldn’t resist.” He gestured, dragging their cases onto the parquet floor of the vestibule.

  “Wait, this is it? We’re here? No corridor, no separate entry?”

  Valentin chuckled, the first time he’d felt any sense of humor for a while. He gestured back to the elevator. “This not enough of an entry point for you?”

  “Oh, it is. I just...” She seemed at a loss for words as she peeked from the vestibule into the main foyer that led to his formal rooms. “This is huge. You have the whole floor?”

  He shrugged. “Should I apologize for that?”

  “N-n-no,” she stammered. “I’m just a bit surprised, to be honest.”

  “Surprised?”

  “You were such a minimalist back in Africa, and let’s face it, this is hardly a bachelor pad.” She looked to the rooms beyond the entranceway. “It’s a real home.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No, of course not, but it’s very different from what we had before. I don’t know what I expected—I just never pictured you in a setting like this.” She seemed flustered as she stepped through the foyer and into his library, moving straight to the windows that overlooked the park. “Wow, this is beautiful. It’s like stepping back into the thirties.”

  He followed close behind, leaving their cases in the foyer. “Close. Mid-1920s, to be precise. I had the choice to renovate extensively, or preserve the special character of the apartment. It had been in the same family for years before I bought it and it seemed a shame to wipe all that history out and replace it with something with less soul. Less heart.”

  She looked at him in surprise.

  “What?” he asked. “You don’t think I have a heart?”

  A tinge of pink touched her cheeks and she busied herself undoing the buttons on her cashmere coat. “No, it’s not that. It’s just that every now and then I realize how much I don’t know you.”

  He reached a hand out and touched her forearm. “That’s what this is about for us now, Imogene—rediscovering each other. We can do this. Day by day, okay?”

  She put her hand over his and squeezed. It was the first time she’d voluntarily touched him since last night. Or was it the night before? They’d been traveling so long he’d grown confused with all the time zones.

  “I’ll show you to your room, let you freshen up and then show you around the apartment, okay?”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” she said, letting him go.

  He felt the loss instantly and wished he could simply take her hand, like a normal couple, and tug her down the hallway to their bedroom, not hers and not his. He closed his eyes briefly and took in a steadying breath. All in good time. Back in the foyer he snagged their cases and then led Imogene down the hallway toward the larger of the guest bedrooms.

  “This is yours and you’ll find the bathroom through there. It connects to the next room but there’s no one in there. My room is farther down the hall and Dion’s room is on the other side of the apartment.”

  “Dion?”

  “My butler-slash-maid. But don’t let him hear me call him that. He prefers the term general factotum.” Valentin forced a smile. “He came with the property and takes his role very seriously. His family served the
family who owned the apartment before I did. He’s also a darn fine cook, so there was no way I was encouraging him to retire after he fed me the first week after I moved in.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “I sent him to visit his daughter while we were on honeymoon. She lives in Vermont. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “And his wife?”

  “He’s a widower.” Valentin put her case on one side of the room. “When you’re ready, come down the hall to the master bedroom to get me and I’ll take you on a tour.”

  “Okay, I’ll do that.”

  Valentin turned to go but hesitated at the door for a moment before turning back to face her again. “We’re going to make it this time,” he said with more force than he intended.

  Imogene locked gazes with him and they stood there like that for several seconds. She was about to say something when his mobile phone chimed. He slid it from his pocket and looked at the display.

  “It’s Galen. I probably ought to take this.”

  “Please, go ahead.”

  He went down the hall, answering as he entered his bedroom.

  “Galen, good timing. We just got back.”

  But it was his brother’s next words that drove him to his knees. “Nick and Sarah, they’re dead.”

  Galen’s college buddy and his wife had been instrumental in helping Galen build the Port Ludlow resort into the successful business it was today. They were his best friends and, together with their nine-year-old daughter, Ellie, had spent a lot of time with the Horvath family over the years. So much so, they were like honorary members of the extended clan. But dead?

  Valentin listened as Galen outlined the details of the accident that had taken his best friends’ lives. Felt his brother’s grief in every syllable.

  “And Ellie?” He was almost too afraid to ask.

  “She’s devastated, poor kid. I’ve got her staying with me. Her class was on a school trip, thank God, otherwise she might have—” Galen’s voice broke off.

  Valentin filled the gap instantly. “What’s going to happen to her? They didn’t have much in the way of family, did they?”

  “No,” his brother answered brokenly. “Just us, really. Nick asked me years ago if I’d agree to be Ellie’s guardian if something like this happened and of course I said yes. I just never thought...”

  “You’re not alone, Galen. And neither is Ellie. We’ll all help where we can. In fact, I’ll come tomorrow,” Valentin offered.

  “No, don’t do that. You’re just back from your honeymoon. I wouldn’t ask it of you even if you weren’t. There’s nothing anyone can do.”

  “The funeral, then. We’ll both come.”

  “Thank you, I’d appreciate it. So would Ellie. You know how much she adores you.”

  “As I do her,” Valentin said grimly. The poor kid. Alone now. No, he told himself. Not alone. She had Galen and she had the rest of his family to buoy her through this awful time. “I’ll call you again tomorrow, okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks. I should have more details then. In the morning I have meetings with the lawyers regarding guardianship and Nick’s and Sarah’s effects.”

  “It’s not going to be easy, but you’ll get through it. They’re counting on you now. Remember I’m here if you need me. For anything, okay?”

  He hung up the phone and sat with his back against his bed. The news was sobering, proof that life could change in a split second.

  “Valentin? Bad news?”

  He looked up to see Imogene hovering in the doorway. He gestured for her to come in and explained what had happened. Instantly compassion flooded her features.

  “That poor girl. Poor Galen. Is he going to be okay?”

  “I guess, but he certainly didn’t ever count on becoming an instant parent.”

  “Kind of makes our problems dim in comparison, doesn’t it?” she said with an empathy he heartily appreciated.

  “It certainly does. We’ll go for the funeral. I’ll let you know when I have the details.”

  “Of course,” she said. “Look, you’ve had a shock, can I get you something? Make you some hot chocolate, maybe?”

  He looked up at her and nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

  “Then you better show me where the kitchen is,” she said with a gentle smile.

  She held out her hand and he grasped it firmly, allowing her to help him to his feet. And he made himself a silent promise. This would work between them, come what may. He didn’t want a life of regret—to look back and wish he’d done things differently or better. Through their match made in marriage his grandmother had given them a second chance at love. It was up to him to ensure it didn’t get messed up.

  Eight

  It was hard to believe they’d been married a month already. That week in Rarotonga, that magical night—those memories had been shoved firmly in the past by a New York winter and both her and Valentin’s getting back to work. But tonight, she wanted to mark the occasion and she’d asked Dion to help her create a delicious taste sensation as a special dinner. Dion had been only too happy to help.

  If only it had been summer, she thought, even spring. Then they could have dined on the garden terrace upstairs. Of course it was covered with snow right now and still bitterly cold, so the dining room would have to do. Or maybe a picnic in front of the fireplace in the library—now, there was an idea. She nibbled at her lip as she pondered the logistics. Beef Wellington served off a plate on the floor? Probably not the best plan.

  Despite their agreement to get to know each other better, they’d both been shoved straight back into the demands of their jobs from the day they’d returned to work. Weekends had been busy, too. Their first weekend home they’d flown back to Seattle to attend the funeral of Galen’s best friends. It had been a terribly sad experience, but the way Galen had supported Ellie, and the way all the Horvaths had shown their support for them both, had been balm for the soul.

  There was no doubt Galen loved that little girl as if she were his own and he was doing everything in his power to assure her of that fact. It had been an eye-opener for Imogene, too, to see that Valentin was equally protective of the child. It had shown a new facet of his character that gave her some inkling as to what he’d be like as a father.

  She flickered a glance at the calendar on the wall. Two more months until they’d have to make a decision about whether their marriage would go ahead. While she hadn’t seen any evidence to support her fears that he shared her father’s attitude to marriage, she still felt as though Valentin was holding something back. Sure, they’d spent the past few weeks sharing their evenings, debating politics, discussing aspects of their work, but she still sensed something was missing. She’d learned more about Valentin’s childhood—a challenging one for all concerned, given his high intelligence and burning need to learn. Even now he spent a lot of his free time poring over textbooks or scientific essays, all in the pursuit of being better educated and well-informed so that nothing would surprise him in the course of his work. That need in him to know all fascinated and amused her. It seemed that to Valentin everything was quantifiable and, she supposed, in his world it probably was. A smile tugged at her lips as she considered how he’d cope in one of her day cares for a week. With varying age groups of children in various stages of willfulness. One thing was consistent in childcare and early education—no two days were ever the same.

  Imogene sighed wistfully. She’d missed that. The color and noise of the classrooms. The bright eager minds as yet unformed by societal pressures or the idea that there was anything they should not or could not do. She looked forward to being back in that environment. Next month would see the appointment of her replacement as CEO. Only a few months ago that had been a topic under discussion and now it was happening. Change was constant. That was never truer, she realized as she considered her own position. So on that
basis, it was logical to assume that if Valentin had cheated on her seven years ago, he was capable of change now. She had to learn to let go of that dark place in their past. To put it in a box in the back of her memory and fully embrace this fresh new start that they were both skirting every day.

  The timer beeped on the oven, distracting her from the direction of her thoughts. She was just about to check on the beef Wellington when her phone rang. She recognized the chime instantly. Valentin. She couldn’t help the tiny flutter of excitement that struck when she answered and heard the timbre of his voice in her ear.

  “Imogene? How are you?”

  “Looking forward to seeing you,” she said, deciding to take the bull by the horns and to stop denying the fact that hearing from her husband thrilled her. “I have something special planned for when you get home.”

  There was a long pause as he obviously digested her words, and Imogene felt her stomach drop by degrees.

  “Oh, Genie,” he sighed across the phone line, regret heavy in his voice. “I’m so sorry. Something has come up at work that requires all my attention right now. I won’t be home until late. It’s why I was calling.”

  She realized that for the first time since she’d walked out on him, he’d called her by the nickname only he had ever used. The sound of it falling so easily from his lips was a balm to her soul. A reminder that even though they were still treading so carefully with each other, there was emotion between them and a growing trust. She fought back her disappointment that he was working late and focused instead on him. He sounded tired, frustrated. And she wanted to resolve that for him—to take away the guilt that reverberated in every word.

  “Don’t worry, Valentin. I’ll be here when you get home. We can do something special another time.”

  “I’m really sorry,” he repeated. “If I could get out of it, I would. We’re so close to closing this deal but there’s been a hiccup in the development budget that requires urgent work.”

  “It’s okay. I understand. Things happen. Please, don’t worry.”

  “I feel bad. Since we’ve been back I’ve been working all hours. That wasn’t my plan.”