Inconveniently Wed

by Yvonne Lindsay

  A smile spread across his handsome face and Imogene felt herself smiling back in return. Their lovemaking had always been impassioned but sometimes it had been fun, too. She loved that they could banter even in a situation like this.

  “Does that mean I can touch you now?” Valentin growled. His eyes were hooded by half-closed lids and if anything it made him look even sexier than before.

  “Please do,” she said primly, and let her hands fall from his shirt.

  She gasped as his palms cupped her breasts, their heat searing the sensitive undersides. His fingers and thumbs closed around the taut peaks of her nipples, squeezing them gently.

  “Do you know how much I wanted to do this before?” he demanded.

  “Show me,” she whispered, barely capable of breathing.

  The contrast between the fabric of his trousers beneath her bare legs and the warmth of his skin where he touched her was driving her to distraction. Rough and smooth, man-made and man. Everything collided together to coalesce in a feast of feeling that jumbled through her. Valentin leaned forward, his mouth closing around one nipple while he let one hand slide down to where their bodies met. His fingers brushed over her clitoris, sweeping the already oversensitized bud again and again, driving her upward toward another climax. Just before she rolled over that point and into oblivion, his teeth caught her nipple and he bit lightly against the tender skin. It sent her flying, soaring, her body no longer her own but his to command. She was sobbing when she returned to reality, to the awareness that he’d grown hard inside her again.

  And to the knowledge that they were no longer alone.

  “Valentin, I have those new figures you wanted.”

  It was a female voice. One she recognized.

  Carla Rogers.

  The woman who’d wrecked their marriage. Ice-cold reality doused any lingering remnants of closeness that had existed all too briefly between her and her husband.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company.”

  Imogene didn’t mistake the vague sneer in the other woman’s voice.

  “Get out!” Valentin’s words were clipped and vehement and laced with a fury that vibrated through him.

  His arms closed around Imogene even as she tried to pull away. But he couldn’t protect her from the very obvious fact that she was naked, sprawled across her husband’s lap, with the tears of emotion wrought from her last orgasm still lingering on her cheeks.

  “I said get out!” he repeated.

  Behind them, Imogene heard a muffled apology swiftly followed by the sound of his office door closing. Imogene didn’t waste any time. She yanked herself off him, bent to grab her dress off the floor and dragged it back over her again. Shock coursed through her veins. Carla Rogers? Here? Working with Valentin?

  Had he expected she’d never find out? Anger billowed through her, hazing her vision and twisting her mind into a dark and ugly place. She looked across the room toward the makeshift table she’d brought. To the remnants of the meal she’d so lovingly prepared. Bitterness flooded her mouth. She’d been such a bloody fool.

  “It’s not what you think.”

  Valentin had straightened his clothing and come up behind her. He rested his hands on her shoulders and started to turn her to face him.

  “Don’t touch me!” she spit, revulsion filling her as her mind worked overtime.

  “Imogene, I can explain.”

  “Don’t you think it’s a bit late for that? Seriously, Valentin. Your old mistress? Working here? With you? How long has she been here? How long did you think you could keep that from me? Or maybe I’ve got it all wrong. Maybe she’s not your old mistress after all. Maybe you never ended your affair with her.” She closed her eyes and swallowed hard against the lump in her throat that threatened to choke her. When she could speak again, she opened her eyes and fixed Valentin with a fierce glare. She swept her hands out to encompass all the hard work she’d done to make the evening special for them. “Well, I hope the two of you get a damn good laugh about all this. I’m sure you must think I’m pathetic.”

  “Pathetic? That’s the furthest thing from what I think about you. And Carla? She’s not my mistress. She wasn’t seven years ago and she’s not now. Believe me, Genie.”

  Not so much as a please in there, she noted as fury gripped her, leaving her shaking from head to foot.

  “You want me to believe you? To trust you? That’s rich,” she sneered, her words dripping with revulsion and scorn. “That woman walked in on us having sex on your office couch. Have you any idea how that makes me feel? How can you possibly expect me to believe you? You had contact with her every day back then and it seems you still have contact with her every day now. Excuse me if I find it a little hard to put any confidence in what you say.”

  She reached for her coat and yanked it on, trying to ignore the fact that her entire body was trembling. She couldn’t believe she’d been such a fool. That she’d fallen for his earnest promise back at their wedding that he’d never been unfaithful to her. She’d wanted to believe him—to believe in him. And all along he and his mistress had been laughing at her behind her back.

  Three-month trial or not, as far as she was concerned, this marriage was well and truly on the way to being over. She headed for the door, her bag clutched in one hand. Come morning she’d contact her lawyer and see how quickly she could break the lease and return to her brownstone. She wanted to be out from under Valentin’s roof as soon as possible. And then she’d see about untangling this mess that was their marriage.

  “Stop, Imogene. Don’t go. Not like this.”

  His words came out as commands, putting her back up even more. Right now he should be groveling. Begging her forgiveness. Instead, he stood there, perfectly composed. Tall and aloof as always. And so darn handsome her heart broke all over again at his betrayal.

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” she retorted. She made a sound of absolute disgust. “For goodness’ sake, she probably even sees more of you than I do! Clearly we should have obeyed our first instincts back in Port Ludlow. Remarrying was a mistake.”

  “Look, I’m sorry. It came out wrong. I never lied to you about Carla. That much is true.”

  “But you didn’t exactly rush to tell me you two continue to be work colleagues. Did she come back with you from Africa? Have you been nice and cozy together all this time?”

  Even as she said the words she began to recognize them for the knee-jerk shock reaction they were. If he was so comfortable with Carla, then why had he put himself in the hands of Alice Horvath and the team at Match Made in Marriage? Why had he tried so hard to convince her to go through with their wedding when both of them hadn’t initially wanted it?

  Valentin’s face grew bleak. “I know you won’t believe me—I probably wouldn’t believe me, either—but I did mean to tell you about her. When the time was right.”

  She barked a harsh laugh. “Right? And when would that have been, I wonder?”

  Her anger, and the adrenaline that had coursed through her only moments ago, had completely faded now, replaced with overwhelming sorrow laced with exhaustion, both physical and mental.

  “I’m going home,” she said, dejected. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

  “I’m taking you.”

  “I’ll take a cab.”

  “I’m taking you home. No argument.”

  “And the food cart? We should—”

  “Forget the damn food cart! I’ll get someone to take care of it.”

  Imogene watched him as he slammed his laptop closed and shoved it in the sinfully soft leather satchel she’d bought for him only last week. Bought with love on her mind and him in her heart. She turned and stared out the window. At the sparkling skyline that had only a short time ago seemed so deliciously romantic. Again, bitterness flooded her mouth along with a deep sense of bereavement
for what she thought they’d begun to build together. His voice cut through her thoughts.

  “Let’s go.”

  He stood by the door, waiting for her to come to him. His face was like granite, his posture stiff and unyielding. It reminded her very much of the last time she’d confronted him about the ever-present Ms. Rogers. He’d rarely expressed his feelings to her without some kind of shield. The only time she’d ever felt like they’d experienced true honesty with each other was when they’d made love. But now she wondered whether even that had been just another facade after all. She buttoned up the top button of her coat and headed for the door.

  Ten

  The ride home was completed in utter silence. Valentin hazarded a look at Imogene but her gaze was firmly focused out the side window. When they arrived at their apartment building she didn’t wait for him to come around and open her door. She was on the sidewalk and heading to the entrance of the building before he’d even said thank you and good-night to Anton. At least she’d waited for him in the elevator, he conceded to himself reluctantly.

  He could feel anger and disappointment pouring off her in waves. He guessed anger was better than tears and recriminations, which was what he thought he’d be forced to bear. A flicker of irritation hovered on the edge of his mind. In fact, it was more than irritation, it was burning up into an anger of his own. At himself. He should never have allowed a situation like that to happen. If he hadn’t had the presence of mind to lock his office door, he could at least have had the presence of mind to whisk his wife home before they’d made love so they could have indulged in each other without fear of being interrupted.

  His body tightened on the memory of seeing her straddle him. Of watching her strip away her dress and reveal her beautiful body to his gaze. Of hearing the sounds she made, the expression on her face.

  And it had all been destroyed in a careless moment that was entirely his fault.

  “I’m sorry that I put you through that,” he said stiffly as the elevator car traveled to the top floor. “It was unnecessary.”

  She looked at him incredulously. “Unnecessary?” she repeated. “Your mistress walks in on us and you say it was unnecessary? Wow. You really have some gall.”

  The elevator doors slid open and Imogene strode into the foyer and turned immediately down the hall toward her bedroom.

  “Imogene, wait. Please, we need to discuss this.”

  He heard her mutter, “Now he says please?”

  It took her a few seconds, but she stopped and turned around.

  “Honestly, Valentin. If you want this marriage to stand any chance of success—any—she has to go.”

  “Look, you’re jealous, I understand that.”

  Imogene’s face took on a scary expression as she marched back toward him. “Jealous? You think that’s what it is? That woman deliberately destroyed our marriage seven years ago. What part of that don’t you understand? Or maybe it’s that you won’t understand it. Maybe you can’t do without her in your life. Well, I have news for you. It’s her, or it’s me. You cannot have us both.”

  “You’re being childish,” he responded, giving his anger a voice. “She’s an integral part of Horvath Pharmaceuticals.”

  “Well, then, she’ll have no trouble finding another job somewhere else. I’m sure you’ll give her a glowing reference on all aspects of her apparently unique talents. Now, if you’ll excuse me—I desperately need a shower. I feel disgusting.”

  She spun on one exquisitely turned heel and stalked to her room. Valentin started to follow her but realized it would be futile. Why did she have to continue to beat that old drum as far as Carla was concerned? He had no feelings for the other woman beyond those of one colleague to another. Carla had a sharp mind, and her medical background and ability to problem solve made her excellent in her role as head of research and development. And her ability to do her job well was what made their teamwork so cohesive, and that was great for Horvath Pharmaceuticals, period. It had nothing to do with the very brief sexual relationship they’d had in Africa before Imogene even arrived on the continent.

  And once she had... Well, no one else had existed for him after that. Then or since. But despite that, as he went to bed, he was left wondering if the perceived sins of the past could not be forgiven or forgotten after all.

  When he rose the next morning Imogene had already left for work. Valentin was in a less-than-good mood when he went to the kitchen for his morning coffee. Dion took one look at his face and immediately poured one for him and put the mug in front of him at the breakfast bar.

  “Last night not go so well?” he tentatively asked.

  “The meal was fantastic. Thank you for helping Imogene organize it,” Valentin managed in a civil tongue.

  Dion hovered, obviously waiting in case Valentin had more to add. For a moment Valentin felt tempted to confide in the older man, who he knew had enjoyed more than forty years of marital happiness before his wife passed away, but he wasn’t used to sharing personal challenges with anyone and this was more personal than most. Instead, he ate the breakfast provided to him, thanked Dion, then went on his way to work. The problems he’d been working on last night still required his urgent attention.

  And his relationship with Imogene? Didn’t that require his urgent attention, too? he asked himself in the car on the way to work. Of course it did, but maybe he needed help. An impartial observer to bounce ideas off. Maybe he should call Alice and let her know she’d made a monumental mistake by matching them. But then again, things had remained strained between them and he wasn’t in the mood for a lecture à la Alice. Nor, after having convinced Imogene to go ahead with the wedding a month ago, was he in the mood to admit to his grandmother that he was the one who had failed. Again. His mind rejected the idea completely. He wasn’t the type to go to others for help. He solved everything himself. And he’d solve this, too.

  Eventually.

  * * *

  Imogene fumed at her desk, furious with herself for not being able to compartmentalize her brain enough to focus on the work in front of her. She should have waited at home this morning and confronted Valentin. Cleared the air. Made her position abundantly clear as to what she wanted and expected of him. She understood that he probably didn’t see an issue. It was who and how he was. She knew he didn’t easily engage in relationships with people outside his immediate family. But not being prepared to let go the one person who had made Imogene’s life absolute hell? That, she couldn’t understand.

  Last night she’d begun to feel as if they’d established a bridge between their old life and their new one. That they’d created a stable foundation upon which to move forward and to enjoy a normal marriage with all the ups and downs that might bring. But it seemed their foundations remained weak and unstable. Built on sand ready to be washed away by the first storm to roll through and, as far as she was concerned, Carla Rogers was in the ballpark of a Category 5 hurricane.

  A message pinged on her computer screen and she hastened to open it. Anything to steer her thoughts from the boiling anger that continued to distract her from what she should be doing. Her eyes widened when she saw the message and she picked up her phone and dialed through to reception.

  “Send Ms. Rogers in,” she managed to say in a steady voice, resisting the temptation to add, and put security on standby in case there’s a full-on fight.

  She got up from her desk and smoothed the front of her dress, glad she’d chosen severe black with a statement piece of turquoise and silver to wear around her neck. She looked formidable, which was exactly how she wanted to feel when facing her nemesis. Even so, her heart began to hammer in her chest as the door to her office opened, admitting Carla Rogers.

  The woman was dressed in a two-piece ensemble that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Audrey Hepburn. Her black hair was caught in a chignon and her jewelry was minimal. She looked all busine
ss, but Imogene saw the cattiness in her eyes before she composed her expression. It was clear Carla thought Imogene was no more than a mouse to be played with, then discarded at will. Well, if she thought that, she had another think coming, Imogene decided, firming her lips and staring the other woman down.

  She remained silent as she gestured for Carla to take a seat opposite her desk and waited for Carla to speak. She didn’t have to wait long. After elegantly folding her legs, Carla clasped her hands on her lap and leaned forward slightly.

  “I felt I needed to come and apologize,” she said with what most people would assume was genuine emotion.

  “Is that right?” Imogene refused to give her an inch.

  Carla smiled but it failed to reach her eyes. “I’m sorry I walked in on you and Valentin last night. I wasn’t expecting to find you there.”

  “Get to the point, Carla. We both know there’s no love lost between us.”

  “Well, that’s a shame, don’t you think? We both have such strong links to Valentin. It’s a shame we can’t work something out like rational adults.”

  “So you’re implying that if I don’t want to share my husband with you, I’m the one being irrational?” Imogene allowed a small pitying smile to play around her lips.

  “I think we can come to some arrangement. I thought he’d gotten you out of his system but it’s clear he can’t let either of us go.”

  Imogene fought the urge to leap over her desk and claw the other woman’s eyes out. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, rested her elbows on the armrests and steepled her fingers. She impaled Carla with a baleful glare. “Is that all you came here to say?”

  Carla inclined her head, and for the first time some of the confidence she wore like a carapace around her began to slip.

  “I’d like you leave now,” Imogene stated bluntly.

  “Leave? But we—”

  “You’ve said your piece. I listened. That’s all I owe you. Before you go, though, there is one thing. I will never share my husband with another woman. If you’d ever truly loved someone, you’d know that and feel exactly the same way. Now, do I need to call security or are you happy to leave under your own steam?”