‘Ex. Ex-girlfriend. Please let me in, Violet. I’m not going to barge my way into your house and if you tell me that you don’t want to see me again, then I’ll go.’
Tell him to go and she would never see him again. Of course, that would be for the best. They really had nothing to say to one another. Less than nothing. Maybe he had braved the foul weather because he felt badly, because he wanted to explain to her, face to face, how it was that Annalise was back in his life. Perhaps he thought that he might be doing her a favour by playing the good guy and filling her in. And still, painful though that thought was, her mind seized up when she thought of him disappearing back into the driving rain and vanishing out of her life for good, without saying what he had to say.
‘It’s late.’ She stood aside and folded her arms as he dripped his way into her hall and removed the trench coat. His hair was plastered down and he raked his fingers through it, which just scattered the drops of water.
‘Perhaps I could have a towel...’
‘I suppose so,’ Violet muttered a little ungraciously.
She returned a few minutes later to find him in the same spot, standing in the hall. Where was the guy who had never hesitated to make himself at home? Where was the self-assured man who knew the layout of her kitchen, who might be expected to make himself a cup of coffee?
She watched in silence as he roughly dried himself. He made no attempt to remove his jumper, which clung to him, and she bit back the temptation to tell him to take it off because if he didn’t he would catch cold.
‘I’m sorry you had to find Annalise in my house,’ Damien said heavily.
Violet broke eye contact and headed towards the kitchen. He might be comfortable having a conversation neither of them wanted in the middle of her hallway, but she needed to sit down and she needed something to do with her hands. She was aware of him following her. It might be after three in the morning but every sense in her was on red alert.
‘It was unexpected, that’s all.’ She busied herself with the kettle, mugs, spoons, keeping her back to him because she was scared that if he saw her face he would be able to read what was going on in her mind. ‘Like I said...’
‘I know. My mother got you there on false pretences. I spoke to her. She...thought that a little bit of undercover matchmaking wouldn’t go amiss...’
‘And did you tell her about Annalise?’
‘No. There is no Annalise.’
And he didn’t know what had possessed him to open the door to her when she had showed up the previous evening. He had opened the door and he had invited her in. She had heard about Violet. Friend of a friend of a friend had seen them together at a restaurant...there were rumours...gossip, even...she was curious...he could talk to her...after all, they had a history...they were connected...weren’t they...?
At that point, Damien knew that he should have escorted her out. It was quite different bumping into her at a random company affair or even occasionally meeting her in a public place where, like a masochist, he could be reminded of his narrow escape, but letting her into his house had not been a good idea.
And yet hadn’t there been a part of him that had questioned whether Annalise might not be reintroduced into his life? Violet had walked out and he hadn’t known what to do with the chaos of his emotions when she had left. Hadn’t a part of him bitterly wondered whether Annalise, who could never wield the sort of crazy control over him that Violet had, might not just be the better bet? He had had his marriage proposal chucked back in his face. Annalise...well, he could buy her and what you could buy, you could control.
He had let her in and the moment of questioning had gone as quickly as it had arrived. But she was in his house and, foolishly, he had prevaricated about throwing her out. Would it have been asking too much of fate to step aside for a while and not steer Violet towards his doorstep?
‘What do you mean?’ Clasping her cup of coffee between her hands, she stalked out towards the sitting room. She hadn’t offered him anything to drink. It was meant as a pointed reminder that she had only allowed him in under duress, but really, if he thought that he could somehow try and come up smelling of roses, then he was mistaken.
She sat down and when she looked up it was to find him hovering by the door.
‘You might as well sit down, Damien. But I’m tired and I’m not in the mood for a conversation.’
‘I know.’ He removed the jumper, which was heavy and wet, and carefully put it over one of the radiators, then he prowled over to the window, parted the curtains a crack and peered outside into the bleak rainy night. ‘I didn’t invite her,’ he offered at last. ‘She showed up.’
‘It’s none of my business anyway.’
‘Everything I do should be your business,’ Damien muttered, flushing darkly. ‘At least, that’s what I’d like.’ He thought that this must be what it felt like to indulge in a dangerous sport, one where the outcome was a life or death situation. ‘And I would understand if you don’t believe me, Violet.’
‘I don’t understand what you’re saying.’ Violet’s voice was wary. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. He was even more compelling in this strangely vulnerable, puzzling mood. It was a side to him she had never seen before and it threw her. He circled the room, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other playing with his hair, before finally standing directly in front of her so that she was forced to look up at him.
‘Would you mind sitting down? I’m getting a crick in my neck looking up at you.’
‘I need you to sit next to me,’ Damien told her roughly. ‘There are things I need...to say to you and I need to have you...next to me when I say them...’ He sat on the sofa and patted the spot next to him. ‘Please, Violet.’ He grinned crookedly and looked away. ‘I bet you’ve never heard me say please so many times.’
‘I can’t do this. Just tell me why you’ve come. You didn’t have to. I know we had...something. You probably feel obliged to explain yourself to me. Well, don’t. So we broke up and you’ve returned to the love of your life.’ Violet shrugged. The vacant space on the sofa next to him begged her to fill it but she wasn’t going to give in to that dangerous temptation. He had this effect on her...could make her take her eyes off the ball and she wasn’t going to fall victim to that now.
‘I told you Annalise was my ex and she still is.’
‘And this is the ex you’ve seen on and off over the years?’
‘Sometimes it pays to be reminded of your mistakes.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I can’t talk when you’re sitting on the other side of the room. It’s hard enough...as it is... I don’t usually...’ He raked his fingers through his hair and realised that he was shaking.
Reluctantly, Violet went to perch on the sofa. Just closing this small gap between them made her stomach twist in nervous knots.
‘Once upon a time,’ Damien said heavily, ‘I fancied myself in love with Annalise. I was young. She was beautiful, clever...ticked all the boxes. It was a whirlwind romance, just the sort of thing you read about in books, and I proposed to her.’
‘You don’t need to tell me any of this,’ Violet interjected stiffly and yet she wanted to hear every word of it.
‘I need to and I want to. You’d be surprised if I told you that I’ve never felt the slightest inclination to share any of the details of my relationship with Annalise with anyone.’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised. You keep everything locked up inside.’
‘I do.’
‘You’re agreeing with me. Why?’
‘Because you’re right. I’ve always kept everything locked up inside. It’s why no one has ever known what Annalise really meant to me.’
And he was about to tell her. Yet the details so far weren’t adding up to the love of his life and she fought to subdue the tendril of ho
pe unfurling inside her that there might be another side of the story. Ever since she had met him, her placid life had become a roller coaster ride, hope alternating with despair before rising again to the surface like a terrible virus over which she had no control. Did she want to get back on that ride? Did she want to nurture that tendril of hope until it began growing into something uncontrollable? She could feel tears of frustration and dismay prick the back of her eyes. She curled her fingers in her lap and was shocked when he reached out and slowly uncurled them so that he could abstractedly play with them.
It was just the lightest of touches but it was enough to send her body into wild shock.
‘Annalise turned me down because she couldn’t cope with the prospect of being saddled, at some point in time, with a disabled brother-in-law.’
‘What?’ This was not what she had been expecting to hear and she leaned forward to catch what he was saying.
‘She met Dominic and I knew instantly that she couldn’t cope with his condition. For Annalise, everything was about perfection. Dominic was not perfect. She knew that at some point I would be responsible for him. She had visions of him living with us, her having to incorporate him into the perfect world she was desperate to have.’
‘That’s...that’s awful...’ Violet reached out and rested her hand on his arm and felt him shudder.
‘From that moment onwards, I knew that never again would I put myself in a position of vulnerability. I enjoyed women but they had their place and I made damn sure that they never overstepped it. And just in case I was ever tempted to forget, I made sure that Annalise was never completely eliminated from my life.’
‘And yet she was there tonight. In your...in your house...’
‘You turned me down. I asked you to marry me and you turned me down.’
Because you couldn’t love me! Despite everything he had said, he still didn’t love her. He was just explaining why he couldn’t. She would do well to remember that and not get swept away by this strange mood he was in and his haltering confidences.
‘When Annalise showed up on my doorstep, I let her in because I was...not myself. No, that doesn’t really explain it either. I was going out of my mind. Had been ever since we broke up. I told myself that it was for the best, that you could damn well go your own way and find out first-hand that there was no such thing as the perfect soulmate, but I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t function... I resented the fact that even when you were no longer around, you were still managing to control my behaviour.’
Violet was finding it impossible to filter the things he was telling her.
‘I am ashamed to say that I briefly considered Annalise a known quantity and that maybe the devil you know... Of course, it was just a passing aberration. I got rid of her as fast as I could and then I waited...for normality to return. It didn’t.’
‘So you came here...to tell me what? Exactly?’ She pinned her mouth into a stubborn line but she had broken out in a fine film of nervous perspiration. She tried to ignore the way he was still toying distractedly with her fingers and the way their bodies were leaning urgently towards each other, radiating a fevered heat that made her want to swoon. His familiar scent filled her nostrils. Once, she had found him devastatingly attractive. Having slept with him, knowing the contours of his lean, hard body, the body along which she had run her hands and her mouth so many times, made him horribly, painfully irresistible. Familiarity hadn’t bred contempt. The opposite. It had ratcheted up the level of his sexual pull to the extent that she could barely think of anything else as she continued to stare at him, pupils dilated, dreading the way her body was reacting in ways her brain was telling it not to.
‘That I proposed to you because...it made sense. I didn’t realise...’ He withdrew his hand to tousle his dark hair. ‘I didn’t think that I might have needed you in my life for reasons that didn’t make any sense. That you’d climbed under my skin and it wasn’t just to do with the good sex.’
‘What was it to do with?’
‘I’m in love with you. I don’t know when that happened or how, but...’
‘Say that again?’
‘Which bit?’
‘The bit about being in love with me.’ A feeling of being on top of the world, of pure joy, filled her like life-saving oxygen. She felt heady and giddy and euphoric all at the same time. ‘You didn’t say,’ she told him accusingly, but she was half laughing, half wanting to cry. ‘Why didn’t you say?’
‘I didn’t know...until you left...’
She flung herself into his arms and sighed with pure contentment when he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, so close that she could hear the beating of his heart. ‘You were so arrogant,’ she told him. ‘You forced me into an arrangement I hated. You broke all the rules when it came to the sort of guy I could ever be interested in. You didn’t want any kind of long-term relationship and I’ve never approved of men who move from woman to woman. And, as well, I was convinced that you were still wrapped up with Annalise, that you’d never let the memory go, that she was the ex no one had ever been able to live up to. On all fronts you were taboo, and then I met your family and I got sucked in to you...to all of you...and it was like being in quicksand. When you proposed, when you listed all the reasons why marrying me would make sense, I finally woke up to the fact that the one reason why anyone should get married was missing. You didn’t love me. I thought you didn’t know how and you never would and I couldn’t accept your offer, knowing that the power balance would be so uneven. I would forever be the helpless, dependent one, madly in love with you and waiting for the time when you got tired of me physically and the axe fell.’
‘And now?’
‘And now I’m the happiest person in the world!’
‘So if I ask you again to marry me...this time for all the right reasons...’
‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’
Damien shuddered with relief. He felt as if he’d been holding his breath ever since he’d walked into the house. His arms tightened around her and he breathed in the fresh floral smell of her hair. ‘You’ve made me the happiest person in the world as well...’ Then he gave a low rumble of laughter. ‘And I don’t think my mother or Dominic will mind too much either...’
EPILOGUE
THEY DIDN’T MIND. Not when Damien and Violet showed up, surprising both Dominic and Eleanor, the following day.
‘Of course,’ Eleanor said smugly, ‘I knew it was just a case of getting you two together so that you could sort out your silly differences. Damien, darling, I love you but you can be stubborn and there was no way that I was going to allow the best thing that ever happened to you to slip through your fingers. Now, let’s discuss the wedding plans... Something big and fancy? Or small and cosy...?’
‘Fast,’ was Damien’s response.
They were married six weeks later at the local church close to his mother’s house. Dominic was the best man and he performed his duties with a gravity that was incredibly touching and, later, at the small reception which they held at the house, he was cheered on to speak and, bright red, raised his glass to the best brother a man could have.
Phillipa didn’t stop teasing her sister that she had managed to beat her down the aisle. ‘And you’ll probably be preggers by the time I make my vows in my white sarong and crop top!’ she wailed, which, as it turned out, was exactly what happened.
On a hot day, watching her sister and her assortment of new-found friends, with the sound of the surf competing with the little band drumming out the wedding march as Phillipa took her vows, Violet leaned against her husband, hand on the gentle swell of her stomach, and wondered whether it was possible to be happier.
From those inauspicious beginnings, the relationship she never thought would happen had blossomed into something she could not live without, and the man who had fought against becoming invol
ved had turned into the man who frequently told her how much he loved her and how much he hated leaving her side.
‘I’ve come to terms with the value of delegation,’ he had confided without a shade of regret, ‘and when my son is born...’
‘Or daughter...’
‘Or daughter...I intend to explore its value even more...’
Thinking about what else they explored now brought a hectic flush to her cheeks and, as if reading her mind, Damien leant to whisper in her ear, ‘Okay. The ceremony is over. What do you say to us staying for the meal and then heading back to the hotel? I think I need to remind myself of what your nipples taste like... I’m getting withdrawal symptoms...’
Violet blushed and laughed and looked up at him. ‘That would be rude...’ she said sternly, but already her mind was leaping ahead to the way her developing body fascinated him, the way he lavished attention on her breasts, even more abundant now, and suckled on her nipples, which were bigger and darker and a source of never-ending attention the minute her clothes were off. She felt the heat pool between her legs when she thought of them lying in the air-conditioned splendour of their massive curtained bed, his head on her stomach while he stroked her thighs with his hand, then tickled the swollen, engorged bud of her clitoris, which she would swear was even more sensitive now.
‘But I’m sure Phillipa will understand...’ she conceded as he planted a fleeting kiss on the corner of her mouth. ‘After all, we pregnant ladies can’t stay in the heat for too long...’
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE MOST EXPENSIVE LIE OF ALL by Michelle Conder.
CHAPTER ONE
‘EIGHT-THREE. MY SERVE.’
Cruz Rodriguez Sanchez, self-made billionaire and one of the most formidable sportsmen ever to grace the polo field, let his squash racquet drop to his side and stared at his opponent incredulously. ‘Rubbish! That was a let. And it’s eight-three my way.’
His Temporary Mistress Page 17