by Daphne Clair
While she was still trying to muster the will to say no, he said, ‘I’ll be there in about half an hour. And I promise not to keep you up late.’
He’d hung up before she could say anything more. She put down the phone and sat staring at the page on her lap without seeing it.
Maybe he’d had second thoughts about financing her film, decided to retract his outrageous terms.
Some hope, she told herself. More likely he still hoped to talk her into accepting them.
‘When they’re ice-skating in hell,’ she muttered.
It was only twenty-five minutes before the doorbell buzzed. The aroma of melted cheese met her nostrils as soon as she opened the door, bringing back memories of evenings when they’d sat side by side watching a film on TV while sharing a pizza and a bottle of wine.
He’d brought wine too, her favourite red. It was raining outside, a light, misty drizzle that dewed the wine bottle. Tiny sparklets of moisture glittered in Devon’s dark hair under the glow of the hall light.
He wore no jacket or tie with his blue shirt and dark trousers. Her eyes were level with the open neck of the shirt, and she could see the tiny pulse beating under lightly tanned skin. Her own pulses quickened.
She led him into the lounge before it occurred to her that it would have been safer to eat in the dining area in the kitchen. This room was far too cosy.
But he’d already placed the pizza and wine on the coffee table, beside the script. ‘A corkscrew?’ he enquired.
Shannon turned to the old oak sideboard and extracted a corkscrew, two wineglasses and a couple of plates. Pretty, flowered china plates that had once belonged to her grandmother, and that her mother had bequeathed to her.
Devin sat on the ruby-red armchair and deftly opened the bottle. As she resumed her seat on the sofa he poured the wine and placed a glass in front of Shannon, then lifted the lid of the box and slid a slice of pizza onto a plate.
Automatically Shannon tucked her bare feet under her on the couch before biting into the layers of cheese, extras and the doughy crust. ‘Mmm,’ she murmured as the concoction released its flavour onto her tongue.
Devin smiled, watching her. Then he took a bite of his own piece, picked up his glass and leaned back in the chair.
Shannon swallowed. ‘How did you know this is what I needed?’
‘I know a lot about you, Shannon.’
She supposed he did, superficially. But he had never shared her deepest feelings. He didn’t understand why she’d been compelled to end their marriage. Her clumsy efforts to explain had only made him angry.
He seemed mellower now, the anger dissipated by time.
Devin dusted crumbs from his hands. ‘A script?’ he asked, nodding at the open folder on the table. ‘The one you’re wanting finance for?’
‘Yes.’
‘May I?’
She nodded and he picked it up, taking another slice of pizza as he began reading.
Shannon let him do so in silence, watching as he put down his plate with the half-eaten slice on it and turned a page, apparently forgetting to finish the food.
Hardly glancing up, he drank some wine, then poured himself more and went on reading.
Shannon took another slice and nibbled at it while covertly studying his face.
Frustratingly, his expression scarcely changed, except for an occasional frown of concentration, or a faint lift of the decisive black brows. She finished eating and sat very still, not wanting to disturb him. The remaining pizza cooled and congealed and still he read on.
Near the end he stood up, the script still in his hands, and walked across the room, then on reaching the window he turned and bent his head over the pages again.
When at last he closed the folder and looked at her, he said, ‘This really happened?’
‘The court scenes are almost verbatim transcripts. The script’s based on them and the newspaper reports at the time.’
‘They found the man guilty on that evidence?’
‘Uh-huh.’
He came back to his chair and dropped into it, looking down at the folder in his hands before returning it to the table. ‘And no one is interested?’
‘Not with me as the director anyway,’ she admitted wryly. ‘But I can’t stop other people using the public record. Then I’ll have missed my chance.’
Devin leaned forward and picked up his half-empty wineglass. Considering the red depths, he said, ‘You needn’t if you accept my offer.’
So he hadn’t changed his mind. ‘On your terms?’
He looked up then, his mouth curving in a smile that held little real humour. ‘You said it was a business proposition. Well, that’s the way business works, my sweet. The golden rule—the one with the gold makes the rules.’
‘I thought the golden rule was, “Do unto others…”’
‘As they would do unto you if they had half a chance.’
Shannon shook her head. ‘That’s a bleak philosophy. And I don’t believe you subscribe to it.’
He looked at her with a scoffing lift to his brows. ‘Don’t kid yourself. I’m no soft touch, not even for you.’
He’d already shown that by his outrageous demands in return for the money she needed.
‘I didn’t think you were,’ she said.
It entered her mind that she could try meeting him on his own ground. ‘But maybe we could negotiate.’
A spark of surprise lit his eyes before he hid it under lowered lids, regarding her consideringly. ‘The main condition is non-negotiable.’
‘That I live with you?’
‘As my wife.’
‘Meaning,’ Shannon lifted her head, ‘that you expect me to sleep with you. Have sex.’
‘Among other things.’
‘Whenever you want?’
He frowned. ‘When we mutually want it.’
‘Suppose I don’t want it at all?’
He looked at her with a hint of derision. ‘Forgive me, Shannon. I find it difficult to suppose anything of the sort.’
The hairs on the back of her neck rose. ‘Maybe you’re over-confident. Will you promise that if I say no you’ll respect my wishes?’
His shoulders seemed to stiffen subtly. ‘When,’ he asked softly, dangerously, ‘have I ever forced you?’
Never. He had never needed to. She’d been eager and willing to make love with him, let him weave his insidious magic, weave her own about him in return, and on the few occasions she didn’t feel up to it he’d been patient, putting aside his physical frustration out of concern for her. Even after they’d begun to grow apart, and their marriage had started to crumble, sex had been the one tenuous thread holding them together.
‘I just need to know,’ she said, ‘what exactly you want for your money. What it is you’re buying.’
His mouth went grim. ‘I want a wife. In every sense of the word. Not a slave, Shannon.’
‘For the duration of the filming.’
There was a pause before he nodded. ‘That’s the deal.’
‘And then I’ll be free to go? My debt discharged?’
‘Certainly.’ His voice grated.
Shannon looked at the folder on the table. She wanted to do that story so badly her mouth watered, the taste of it almost as tangible as the cheese flavour that still lingered on her tongue.
She swallowed. ‘You have to understand that I’ll be filming, sometimes at odd hours. Maybe on location.’
He nodded again, curtly. ‘I won’t stand in your way. As your husband, I hope I’ll be welcome to go along and watch sometimes.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Go along? With me?’
‘I’d like to keep an eye on my investment.’
That sounded believable. Which investment, though? she wondered cynically—the film or herself? As graciously as she could, she said, ‘You’d be welcome to visit the set, so long as you don’t interfere with the filming.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of interfering in a field where I have no expertise.
I’d merely be an interested observer.’
She could hardly deny him the right. Not if he had millions of dollars sunk into the project. ‘And you wouldn’t want any control over casting or hiring?’ she persisted.
He hesitated, his eyes sharpening. ‘I’m sure you’ll be guided by what’s best for the film.’
No doubt about that. He must know that was the first consideration for her.
‘Any more questions?’ Devin asked.
She couldn’t think of any. Impossible to believe though it was, she was seriously beginning to think she had no choice but to take his outrageous offer.
Her mouth felt dry, and her heart was pounding, unnaturally loudly. She parted her lips and moistened them with her tongue. ‘All right,’ she heard herself say. ‘It’s a deal.’
For a long moment Devin sat motionless, as if he hadn’t heard. She began to think that the words had only been in her head.
Then she saw his throat move as he swallowed, before he leaned across and poured more wine into her empty glass, his hand perfectly steady. He lifted his own glass and said, ‘Shall we drink to that?’
Shannon picked up her glass as if in a dream, half expecting to wake any minute and find that it was. The wine, blood-red and reflecting the light from the overhead lamp, danced against the sides of the glass, and she realised her hand was shaking. Hastily she raised the drink to her lips, nearly choking on the gasping gulp she took.
Devin replaced his glass on the table. ‘I’ll see my lawyer about drawing up a contract. You’re welcome to discuss it with your own legal representative. But our…private arrangement won’t be in writing.’ He paused. ‘As soon as the formal agreement is signed and you move in I’ll arrange an initial transfer of funds to your account. The remainder will be paid as it’s needed.’
‘Th-thank you,’ Shannon said, her head whirling, and not from the wine. It isn’t too late to back out, a panicky little voice inside her said. Tell him you didn’t mean it. She opened her mouth to say she’d changed her mind. But nothing came out.
‘Of course,’ Devin was saying, ‘if you prefer to come to me sooner, you’re welcome anytime.’
Dumbly she shook her head. ‘No. Not before…’
Not before she had to. Not until the contract on which this bizarre bargain rested had been signed and sealed.
‘That’s it, then.’ He put down his glass and stood up again. ‘I’ll let you know when it’s ready for signing.’
Shannon stood up too. Going ahead of him to open the door, she held her head high.
As she waited for him to pass her, he slipped a hand under her chin, lifting her face to him.
Shannon stiffened, her eyes meeting his defiantly. ‘We don’t have a contract yet.’
His mouth moved, more a grimace than a smile. ‘So hands off until we do?’ He studied her, his gaze playing over her face as if memorising it. ‘You drive a hard bargain.’
‘I thought you of all people would respect that.’
Devin laughed then, briefly, before he dropped his hand and turned, striding out the door and down the path without looking back. Shannon closed it, let out a breath and went back to the living room. The empty glasses and the remains of the pizza on the table, the lingering aroma of cheese, convinced her that this was reality, not some weird fantasy.
She took up the script and hugged it to her like a shield. If she could make this come to life on screen, that was worth almost anything.
Almost.
Devin phoned on Tuesday. ‘Can you get to a meeting in my lawyer’s office this afternoon at three-thirty?’
‘That’s quick,’ she said.
‘I told him we’re in a hurry. You are, aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’ She supposed that when you were a millionaire in a hurry even lawyers jumped to your bidding.
‘I can pick you up,’ he offered.
‘No, I’ll drive myself. Are they still in Parnell?’
‘No, I changed to another firm last year.’
The practice was a large one and she had no trouble finding the office in the centre of town. When she gave her name at the desk, even though she was a few minutes early the receptionist said, ‘Oh, yes. Mr Keynes is already with Mr Symonds. They’re expecting you.’
The contract seemed simple enough, and she suspected that the lawyer thought Devin was being un wise investing in such a risky venture. To an outsider she seemed to be getting a lot of money with no security, the only safeguard being the stipulation that accounts were to be strictly kept and regularly presented for audit.
The man questioned her discreetly as to her experience and financial circumstances, and she gave him frank answers. She saw his covert glance at Devin, then at her, and the flash of enlightenment that dawned. ‘I wish you luck,’ he said finally. ‘It’s wise to have these things on a formal footing, even if the arrangement is between…ah…friends.’
Devin gave him a keen look in return. He said coolly, ‘Shannon is my wife.’
The man’s face, for just an instant, was a study in shock. ‘Your wife?’ he repeated, and then hastily, ‘Ah, I see. Congratulations.’
Of course he didn’t see. He had no idea of the hidden part of this agreement.
Shannon threw a furious glare at Devin but he seemed impervious. Turning to her, he said, ‘Do you want to run it by your own lawyer?’
She wanted to get out of there. Anyway, there was no point in quibbling. As he’d said, he had the money and she wanted it. And he and his legal eagle hadn’t slipped in anything she could see that she might reasonably object to. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ll sign it now.’
She and Devin left the office together. In the carpeted elevator on the way down she said, ‘Did you need to tell him that we were married?’
‘He thought you were my mistress,’ he said. ‘Would you have preferred him to go on thinking it?’
It would have been closer to the truth, she reflected, shame twisting in her stomach. The fact that they happened to have a marriage certificate merely lent a spurious respectability to what she’d called a sordid arrangement. In truth, she was no different from any other woman who slept with a man for money.
Except that Devin had specifically promised he wouldn’t coerce her into sex. So if she didn’t want to share his bed he had only himself to blame, she thought, squaring her shoulders. She would live with him, but he’d agreed that sex had to be mutual. And how could she sleep with a man who had paid for the privilege?
A Catch-22 situation.
He might find himself hoist on his own petard. Maybe she could survive this with her self-respect intact.
CHAPTER FOUR
IN THE marble-floored foyer, Devin said, ‘Do you need help to pack?’
‘I don’t want any help. Anyway, it’ll take me a week or so to get organised. I know an actress who’s looking for a place and she might take over my flat while I’m away, but I’ll have to consult my landlord. I can’t do everything in a day or two.’
‘If you have furniture you want to bring—’
‘I couldn’t park my furniture in your apartment.’ Her old bow-fronted sideboard, her cheerful chairs, would clash with the carefully co-ordinated decor of his home and spoil its elegant minimalism. ‘I’ll bring my clothes,’ she said. ‘That’s all I need. The rest of my stuff can stay where it is.’
‘As you like. But the sooner you move in the sooner you get the money.’
‘Don’t push me, Devin!’ she flashed. ‘This is hard enough for me as it is.’
Quietly he said, ‘I don’t mean to put the screws on.’
‘You already have.’ But he was making it possible for her to fulfil her dream. Grudgingly she added, ‘Not that I’m not…grateful for your help.’
Devin laughed. ‘That hurt, didn’t it? I don’t want your gratitude, Shannon. All I want is you.’
The words echoed in her mind, and she remembered he’d used them before in different circumstances. Just days before their wedding she’d won
dered if he didn’t regret asking her to marry him; she’d said he could have had any number of women who were more beautiful, more glamorous, more accustomed to moving in the inner circle of Auckland’s moneyed classes—in every way more suitable for a man with his background, living his kind of life.
He’d brushed aside her worries and kissed her with passion and purpose, murmuring into her hair afterwards, while she was still surfacing from almost drowning in pleasure, ‘All I want is you.’
She’d believed him then. She supposed he’d believed it himself. A deep sadness at what they’d lost swept over her. ‘I’ll let you know when I’m ready to move in,’ she said.
As she made to turn away, he caught at her arm. ‘Don’t leave it too long.’
The actress was delighted to move into Shannon’s flat, and the landlord had no objections. She had to give her new address and phone number to a few people, and some eyebrows were raised. Most of them would deduce it was unlikely she could afford a luxury apartment.
It wouldn’t be possible to keep her living arrangements a secret for long, but her moving in with Devin would be a nine days’ wonder, and then some other juicy gossip would take its place.
Craig had been unexpectedly put out. She let him into the flat only an hour after phoning to tell him the film would go ahead after all, and he found her packing her clothes.
‘You’re going back to him?’ he asked incredulously. ‘Why?’
‘It was your idea for me to go and see him,’ she said. ‘When we met again we…we talked, and decided to give our marriage another go.’
‘Is he handing over the money for the film?’
‘Yes. He’s being…um…generous.’
‘Bribing you.’
‘It’s not like that!’ But she was guiltily conscious that it was almost exactly like that. ‘We realised that…that we’ve both grown, changed.’
‘Did you sleep with him?’
‘Craig!’
‘Sorry, sorry.’ He raised his hands, backing away. ‘Not my business.’
‘We came to an understanding. He read the script, and decided he’d like to invest in it. Our personal…um…affairs are a separate matter, and I don’t want to discuss them.’