The Sheikh's Million Dollar Bride & The Billionaire's Ruthless Revenge (Clare Connelly Pairs Book 6)

by Clare Connelly

  She swallowed, trying to carefully frame her words. “That does surprise me.”

  “Oh?”

  She nodded. “You strike me as someone who would have an inflexible barometer of morality.”

  His laugh was short. “For myself, perhaps.”

  “But not for others? What kind of excuse can you make for Adam?”

  “None,” he answered swiftly. “Mainly because you’ve already made them all for him.”

  Her smile was weak.

  “I judge him not for the crime but for the way it affected you.”

  Her cheeks flushed pink and Kyle stared. He was familiar with dating and flirting. He always had a woman in his life, though usually their involvement in his life was limited to his bed. But Annie was different. The way she made him feel was different. It was all new, and he felt like a giddy kid.

  “Adam’s always been an egomaniac,” she said softly, her lips curling around the admission in a way that made Kyle want to reach forward and brush them with his thumb.

  “Unlike you,” Kyle surmised accurately.

  “For twins, we’re chalk and cheese.”

  “Could it be that you shaped yourself around what he needed you to be?”

  Her eyes narrowed at his astute observation.

  “Twenty two foster homes; you learn a thing or two about people.”

  She nodded, sipping her wine to buy for time. “He’s not a bad guy. I love him. He’s my brother. What choice do I have?”

  For Kyle, it was an unusual question. He had seen siblings interact before, and he’d witnessed this kind of loyalty and protectionism too. Having never been on the receiving end of it, however, he had no personal experience as to how it must feel to receive such foolish loyalty. “Did it ever occur to you that you’re not doing him any favours by cleaning up his mess?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled unevenly. “But I had to at least try.”

  “I’m glad you did,” he said after a beat too long.

  “You are?”

  “Not because I care what happens to Adam particularly.”

  Her heart thumped hard in her chest, her blood pounded through her body. “Then I’m glad you intervened on his behalf.”

  “We both know my reasons had nothing to do with him.” He lifted a hand and ran a finger over her cheek. She sucked in a deep breath at the surprise contact.

  “No?”

  “No.” He shook his head slowly from side to side just once, to underscore the word he’d uttered. “Are your parents alive?”

  The question came out of nowhere and Annie blinked at the lightning fast conversation change. She would come to understand that such swift shifts in questioning were a hallmark of the man whose brain was never quiet.

  “Yeah,” she smiled thinking of her mother and father. “They’re in London, waiting impatiently for us to come home.”

  A muscle jerked in his cheek. “Is that something you want?”

  “To move back to London?” She shrugged. “I came for a year. It was Adam’s idea. But we’ve been here two and I haven’t … we haven’t … talked about moving back yet.”

  “Good.” He nodded, as though that matter had been resolved with finality.

  “It is?”

  His smile sent arrows of sensual need harpooning through her body. Desire was a current and she was completely at its mercy.

  “Yes, Annie Smith, for me it’s very good news.”

  2

  Was that really her?

  Annie looked at the framed photograph on his desk with a strange out-of-body sensation. It had been taken on their honeymoon in Aspen. She had been laughing because he’d almost fallen over, and one of the hotel staff had snapped the picture without either of their knowledge.

  She looked so happy in it. Annie reached a finger out and touched the photo, wondering absentmindedly how she could get back to that. How could she feel that happiness again?

  The answer, of course, was that she wouldn’t. Never again would she have that same joyous optimism in life. In that moment she’d believed in fairy tales and ‘happily ever after’.

  The sound of the door pushing inwards caused her to startle guilty and step hurriedly back from his desk. He saw the betraying gesture and frowned.

  “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

  “I know that,” she responded tautly.

  “Yet you look like you’re about to have a heart attack,” he observed, pushing the door closed quietly behind himself.

  She felt like it, too. “Is everything okay?”

  He frowned in confusion.

  “Your meeting,” she prompted.

  “Oh.” His nod was dismissive. “It’s fine.” He crossed the room, coming to stand directly in front of her. It was too close. Her senses were screaming at her, her body was shouting at her to move nearer, to lean against him, her heart was hammering against her chest, as though it could beat loudly enough to sync in with his once more.

  She breathed deeply and fixed her enormous violet eyes to his face. “Adam’s been stealing. I don’t know for sure. I have no proof. But he’s getting a heap of money from somewhere and I’m almost positive it must be something to do with his work.” Her eyes latched to his for a long beat. “With you.” She shook her head with just-suppressed annoyance. “I can’t believe it, Kyle. I just can’t believe he’d be this stupid.”

  “Can’t you?” Kyle responded. She was so slim. Even her face had lost weight; it was bordering-on gaunt. “Where are you living?” The question blurted out of him without his consent.

  He saw the flash of surprise in her eyes and understood it; the question didn’t belong. It was a stray bullet. “Near my old place,” she said evasively.

  “Soho?”

  She seemed to be weighing her options for a brief moment, before shaking her head. “The Village.”

  He was exasperated. “Where in The Village?”

  “It …” she dropped her eyes to focus on the floor. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Like hell it doesn’t. He bit back the acerbic rejoinder and honed in on her original statement. “Why do you suspect your brother of this?”

  “I was at his house the other day. I saw a bank statement.” Her cheeks flushed pink. “I found a bank statement. He’s been buying stuff in the last fortnight. Expensive stuff. Stuff they usually wouldn’t be able to afford...”

  “So you raided his mail.”

  She glared at him. “You know very well why I did.”

  He laughed, though it wasn’t remotely amusing. “Yeah. Because he stole ten grand from me in his first month on the job.”

  “It was an accident,” she said softly. “Or maybe it wasn’t. God, Kyle, what am I going to do?”

  “You? Why? What has any of this got to do with you?”

  She sat down softly, easing herself into his big chair, and curled her legs up beneath her.

  She had sat like that often, and he’d always found it … adorable. Now, he found it concerning. Her diminished size was affecting him in the strangest way. “Jesus, Annabelle, have you been eating?”

  “Huh?” She lifted a hand and toyed with her necklace.

  “You look like you’ve narrowly survived a famine.”

  “Why, thanks,” she bit sarcastically, feeling as unattractive as she always feared she would become to him.

  He narrowed his eyes. “You were never skinny like this. What’s happened?”

  “I’m fine,” she snapped. Her meaning was clear. Back off. Leave me alone and focus on my brother.

  “You are not fine,” he replied, ignoring the silent warning.

  “He doesn’t need money,” she continued as though he hadn’t spoken, her eyes trained on a point in the distance. “We both know his salary is excellent. It’s a compulsion with him. He can’t help himself.” A sob escaped her. “Kyle, you know about this already, don’t you?”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw as he studied her. Annie had the strangest sensation that she was some kind of
bug to him, existing in the screen of his microscopic glare.

  “I know he’s a dishonest, unscrupulous son of a bitch. I know that if he wasn’t your twin I’d have fired him two years ago.” He leaned closer to her, bringing his face within an inch of hers. “I know that I’d have called the police two weeks ago and had him arrested, if he weren’t your brother.”

  Another cry poured from her lips. She shook her head resolutely. “Please don’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. I don’t know why he does this. But he doesn’t deserve to go to prison.”

  “It is exactly what he deserves,” Kyle contradicted with iron-like determination.

  “He’s not a common thief.” It was a plea, as though somehow the differentiation might make a difference to him.

  “You’re right. He’s anything but common. He’s a genius. He’s a criminal mastermind.”

  “Evidently not,” she pointed out swiftly, chewing her lower lip so vigorously that Kyle couldn’t help but stare at the gesture. “You discovered his crimes – twice.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess I’m one step ahead of him then.” He let out an angry sigh. “You can’t keep fighting his fights.”

  “I’m not.” She stared at Kyle, torn between a desire to placate him and an angry need to force him to understand. “I’m just speaking on his behalf to the only person who can make a difference. To someone I suppose I think I still have some … influence with.” She cleared her throat. “Though perhaps not as much as I need.”

  Kyle straightened and took a vital step away from her. “You want me to agree not to report him?”

  His words were little bullets of gold dust. She stared at his back, wondering if she’d heard correctly. She hadn’t dared allow herself to cherish that hope. Of course it had flashed into her mind. But how could she ask it of Kyle?

  “I want you to tell me I’m wrong,” her voice croaked into the enormous office. She cleared her throat, but her mouth was as dry as a sandstorm. “I don’t want to believe this. I want you to tell me that he got a huge bonus and the money’s his legitimately.”

  Kyle angled his head to stare out of the windows and planted his hands on his hips. It drew attention to his leanly muscled waist, visible beneath the superb tailoring of the suit he wore.

  “You and I both know what your brother is.”

  “I can’t believe he’d do this again. Not after last time.”

  Kyle’s expression was grave. “No. Nor could I.”

  She toyed with a bit of leather on her shoe, her eyes saucer like in her face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He looked at her impatiently. “You want a divorce, remember? Your brother is no longer my problem. Why would I have called you?”

  She blanched. “He’s still family.”

  Family. Again, that mysterious shroud of inclusion that Kyle couldn’t fathom. “Not my family.”

  “He’s my brother.”

  “And you’re doing your darndest to become my ex-wife.” He held a hand up to silence the objection he could see she was about to frame. “Nonetheless, I didn’t call the police in. Yet.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “If you call the police, there’s a risk he may end up in prison.”

  “It’s a felony offense.”

  Her eyes clung to his, waiting for the axe to drop.

  “If he’s convicted – which he would be – he’d face a mandatory period of incarceration.”

  “Bloody hell.” She sounded her most British self when she swore, and it had always managed to bring a smile to Kyle’s face. Not now, not here. She stood up unsteadily and closed the distance between herself and her husband. She acted on autopilot. Her heart needed consoling. She needed him to say something to make it better. But that was no longer his responsibility in life. “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered dejectedly. “I just can’t believe this.”

  “Can’t you?” He pondered, studying her beautiful, strained face for a long moment.

  “I can’t believe he’d do it to you. You’re my husband.”

  He arched a brow at her use of the term and she flushed to the roots of her hair. “So far as he knows.”

  Now that was interesting. “You didn’t tell him you left me?”

  She dropped her eyes, finding it impossible to answer the open speculation in his face. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t want to answer any questions. It’s none of his business.”

  “Fascinating.”

  “Kyle, let’s stay on point, okay? This has nothing to do with you and me.”

  “That you think so shows how naïve you are, honey.”

  “Don’t.” She snapped, surprising him with the anger that was evident in the one small word. “Don’t belittle me. I don’t need it.”

  “What you need is my help.” He shifted his weight slightly, bringing his body closer to hers. At another time, he might have apologised or asked her why she felt belittled. But the days of caring about Annie’s fickle feelings had walked out the door when she did.

  She looked up at him with a heart loaded with hope and doubt. “I know.”

  “You’re asking me to cover up a crime.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m asking. I don’t know what you can do. Kyle … I would never … I don’t want you to do anything illegal. I can’t stand the idea of you getting in trouble too.”

  It was such an absurd assertion that he had to bite back on a laugh. “I’ll do my best to avoid it then.”

  “My only hope in coming here today was to beg you to do anything you legally can to help him. That’s it. And … to apologise.”

  Something clenched in his gut. A feeling he couldn’t recognise, something sharp and awkward. “Apologise?” He prompted huskily, his deep voice showing scepticism.

  “For my brother,” she clarified quickly. “You did a really good thing two years ago and this is how he repays you?”

  Kyle let go of the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. She wasn’t apologising to him for her sudden disappearing act, nor the childish way she’d told him their marriage was over: by posting divorce papers to him. No, her apology was reserved for that idiotic brother of hers.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said again, lifting a hand to the hard wall of his chest to show him how serious she was. “I truly didn’t believe he would stuff up again.”

  “You don’t think the first time was a sign that he’s capable of this?”

  “Did you?” She scanned is face in confusion. “Did you think he’d …”

  “It’s like you said,” Kyle shrugged. “It’s a compulsion with him. It’s not about the money so much as whether or not he can game the system.”

  “Yes.” She let out a whoosh of air. “That’s exactly what it is.”

  “So if I don’t get the police involved, he’s likely to do it again. And again. And again. And what will you do, dear Annie?” He lifted a finger to her cheek and traced it along her soft flesh, his eyes mesmerised by its progress. She startled at the contact, but didn’t step back. “Will you come to me every time? Will you come with your big eyes and your sad little sobs of despair and beg me to fix everything in your life, again and again and again? Is that really how you want to live?”

  She shook her head, but grief was lancing through her. A year ago, she’d felt they were a team. That they’d face anything in life together, side by side. “He can’t go to prison.” She swallowed. The truth she’d been hoping not to have to reveal to her husband sat heavily on her chest. “Juanita’s pregnant.” Saying the words crashed a wave of panic over her, as it always did, but she’d become more adept at coping with it.

  Kyle was fascinated by the clinical statement, as though the very idea was somehow incomprehensible to her. Her concern was understandable though. With Adam in prison, and a child to raise, Juanita would have it tough. He liked Adam’s wife. She was smart and kind, and far too good for the man.

  “And you d
on’t want her to raise the kid on her own.”

  “Of course I don’t,” Annie hissed, shaking her head at the very idea. “And nor does he.”

  Kyle stepped away from her, hating that his blood was pounding through his body with the same need she always managed to evoke in him. “That’s something he should have thought about before he skimmed a small fortune off his colleagues’ pay cheques.”

  “Oh my God. Is that what he did?” She shook her head in shock. “It’s so much worse than I’d thought. What the hell was he thinking?”

  “Who knows? But I can’t see that it’s your problem. Or mine.”

  “Then you’re even more of a heartless bastard than I’d realised,” she muttered without thinking.

  He turned to face her, his expression scathing. “If you want my help you might want to reconsider your approach.”

  “Oh? You won’t help me unless I flatter and suck-up to you?” She retorted, her nerves shaken by the very idea of what her brother had done.

  “On the contrary, I’m not sure I’ll help you under any circumstances, flattery or not.”

  Her face blanched. “Please, Kyle. I’m desperate. Just tell me what I can do.”

  His laugh was lacking amusement and it sent little frissons of warning down her spine.

  “What you can do?”

  “Yes. I’ll do anything. I’m begging you… I need you to help me.”

  He slammed his palm against the wall, and when he spoke it was with a raised voice. “For God’s sake, you walked out on our marriage, Annabelle. You walked out on me. And now you come here and expect me to wave some kind of damned wand and fix your brother’s mess?”

  She jumped at his anger. “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop apologising,” he cut, his mood not improved. “I don’t need your apologies.”

  “I shouldn’t have come to you,” she said with a sinking feeling. “I don’t know what I thought you’d say or do.” She blinked. “It’s like I forgot who you really are.”

  “And who am I?” He asked with dangerous silkiness in his words.

  “A narcissist. If you don’t benefit then you don’t lift a finger. Everything’s about you.”