The Price Of A Bride

‘Mrs Leyton answered all your questions,’ Mia parried coolly. Hadn’t it occurred to him that she was the one who was having to uproot her whole life for this? He’d given her three days to do it in—three damn days!

But that hadn’t been the real reason she had refused to accept any of his phone calls. She’d needed these last few days to get a hold on herself, to come to terms with what had erupted between them in his office.

It hadn’t worked. She was still horrified by it all, frightened by it all.

‘Well, fob me off like that again, and you won’t like the consequences,’ he muttered.

I already don’t like them, she thought heavily, but just shrugged a slender shoulder and kept her gaze fixed firmly on the slowly changing scenery beyond the limousine window.

And it was strange, really, she mused, but here she sat, married to this man. He had kissed her twice, ruthlessly violated her sexual privacy once, had insulted her and shown her his contempt and disgust in so many ways during their two short interviews that it really did not bear thinking about. Yet during all of that, including the brief civil ceremony which had taken place this morning with no family present on either side, not even his own brother, Leon—which had acted as a clear message in itself to Mia—their eyes had barely ever clashed.

Oh, they’d looked at each other, she conceded drily. But it had been a careful dance as to when he looked or she looked, but they had not allowed themselves to look at the same time.

Why? she asked herself. Because neither of them were really prepared to accept that they were actually doing this. It went so against the grain of civilised society that even the Greek in him must be appalled at the depths to which he had allowed himself to sink in the name of desire.

Not sexual desire but the desire for property.

‘Why the smile?’

Ah, she thought, his turn to look at me. ‘I was wondering if my father was enjoying a glass of champagne somewhere in Geneva,’ she lied. ‘Celebrating his success in getting us both this far.’

‘He isn’t in Geneva,’ he said, watching impassively as her slender spine straightened. ‘He has been staying with his mistress in Knightsbridge since I signed his bloody contract. I presume he wanted to keep out of your way in case you started asking awkward questions about what he actually got me to sign in the end.’

Her chin turned slowly, supported by a neck that was suddenly very tense, her wary eyes flickering over his face without really focusing before she lowered them again. There was something—something snake-like in the way he had imparted all that which made her feel slightly sick inside.

‘The two of you can’t possibly have agreed anything else to do with me without my say-so,’ she declared rather shakily.

‘True. We didn’t.’ He relieved her mind with his confirmation. ‘But we did discuss the fact that you have a younger sister...’

Oh, no. She closed her eyes, her heart sinking to her stomach. Her father would not have told this man about Suzanna, surely?

‘He wanted me to know what a bad influence you are on the child,’ that hateful voice continued, while Mia’s mind had shot off in another direction entirely. ‘Therefore, while you are with me you are to have no contact with—Suzanna, isn’t it? Apparently, you are very jealous of her and can, if allowed to, make her young life a misery...’

So that was how her father was playing it. Her eyes bleak and bitter behind her lowered lids, Mia pressed her lips together and said nothing. No contact with Suzanna would keep her striving to make the grandson her father wanted so badly. No contact with Suzanna was meant as a warning—do your job or forget all about her.

‘Is that why he married you off to the highest bidder?’ her new husband continued remorselessly. ‘To get you right out of your sister’s life?’

‘You didn’t bid for me—you were bought!’ She hit back at him. ‘For the specific purpose of producing my father’s precious grandson! So, if the reputation for making sons in your family lets you down,’ she finished shakily, ‘make sure you don’t blame me for the mistake!’

He should have been angry. Heavens, she’d said it all to make him angry! But all he did was huff a lazy laugh of pure male confidence.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.