Claiming His Wedding Night

‘I just want to make it clear that I’m paying,’ she said quickly. Their eyes met—hers the same, rebellious blue as a teenage tattoo, his glinting, grey. ‘It’s only fair.’

His gaze fixed on her face and he stared at her thoughtfully, then shrugged. ‘Fine. You can buy me lunch. But I warn you, I’m not a cheap date.’

Addie stilled. ‘This is not a date, Malachi. And that kind of remark is why I’m buying lunch. So there aren’t any mixed messages.’

He grinned. ‘You know me, sweetheart. The only thing I like mixed are my cocktails. Speaking of which—at least let me buy you a drink. Do you still like Bellinis?’

She swallowed, feeling a stabbing within. And then a softness. ‘You remembered...’

His eyes never left her face. ‘Of course. I remember everything about you and our time together.’

The softness hardened and she shivered inside. Was that what their marriage had been to him? A portion of hours and days? Her heart began to beat faster.

‘Good!’ She swallowed. ‘Then you’ll remember how important my charity is to the children it helps. And, no, thank you. I don’t want a Bellini.’

He waved a hand across the table at her negligently.

‘Some wine, then? Or is my presence intoxicating enough for you?’

Tucking her legs beneath the table, Addie forced herself to meet his cool grey gaze. ‘I don’t drink at business meetings.’ she said primly.

‘Neither do I,’ agreed Malachi, lifting the glass of wine to his lips. ‘It’s very unprofessional. But fortunately I don’t class our meeting as anything other than a cause for celebration.’

She stared at him blankly. ‘Celebration! I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Of course you do.’ Beneath the restaurant’s lights his eyes looked lighter, almost silver. ‘It was you who reminded me.’ He held out his glass and tapped it against her tumbler of water. ‘Happy Anniversary, sweetheart!’

Addie felt her skin grow cold. His eyes were glittering with an emotion she didn’t fully understand and, quickly turning her head, she fixed her gaze on the view of the ocean just as their meals arrived.

The food was both delicious and beautifully presented, but Addie found it impossible to enjoy her lobster salad.

‘Even if it is our anniversary,’ she said coldly, ‘I hardly think that’s relevant to today’s discussion. Personally I’d be happier if we just stuck to the real reason why we’re both here.’

‘Of course,’ he murmured. ‘If it makes you more comfortable.’

Addie glowered at him. Comfortable! As if!

The only reason she was still sitting there was the children and her colleagues. Otherwise, had she not chosen to wear such ridiculously high heels, she would happily have turned round and run as fast as possible from that deceptively guileless face.

But breathing out slowly, she pressed her nails into the palms of her hands. At least she looked the part. Even if it had meant selling her bike. The important thing was that while she might need his help, he didn’t need to know that. She looked cool and classy and in control. Not like a woman looking for a favour.

Now all she had to do was stay focused. But, glancing across the table, she felt a pulse leap in her throat as she looked up into his glittering grey gaze.

‘You’re very quiet, sweetheart. I thought you wanted to talk?’ Lolling back against the leather upholstery, Malachi gazed at her intently.

She shrugged. ‘I was just thinking.’

‘Then I should probably be leaving!’ His eyes, light and dancing, fixed on her face even as the corners of his mouth began to tilt upwards. ‘A quiet woman is like a hand grenade. A quiet woman thinking is like a hand grenade with the pin pulled out.’

His curving smile waited for her reply and she licked her lips, her heart fluttering beneath his scrutiny.

And then, just in time, she remembered that there was an actual reason for her being there—other than just to gawp at Malachi’s cheekbones. Feeling clumsy, hoping he didn’t suspect the reason for her distracted behaviour, she pulled out a folded piece of paper from her bag and handed it to him.

‘That’s the original agreement.’

He took it and opened it. His face was impassive as he scanned the contents. Finally he looked up at her. ‘It’s strange, don’t you think? The two of us? Together again?’

She’d been expecting him to refer to the letter. Instead, caught off guard, she had to force down the tangled mass of emotion that reared up inside her in response both to his words and the probing focus of his eyes.

‘Th-there is no “two of us”,’ she said shakily. Her eyes darted away from him and round the room, seeking something solid and reassuring. Fixing on two burly businessmen at the bar, she felt her shoulders relax slightly. ‘And we’re not together.’

He smiled slowly. ‘Then why are you scared?’

Her temper flared. ‘I’m not scared.’ She hesitated. ‘Just a little apprehensive, I suppose.’ She met his gaze defiantly.

‘Would it help if I promised not to drop my napkin?’ he said softly.

A warm tide swept over her skin, as hot and strong as a hurricane. But no hurricane could ever be as devastating or dangerous as Malachi King, she thought wildly. Her cheeks burning, she fixed her eye on the smooth white linen tablecloth. But she could feel his eyes, dark and implacable as granite, seeking her out.

‘I’d rather you didn’t bring that up now.’ Her skin felt as if it was on fire; her heartbeat felt so loud she was surprised the other diners hadn’t stopped eating to stare at her.

‘When would you like me to bring it up?’ he asked smoothly.

‘N-never!’ Her voice was trembling and she shook her head. ‘It’s just not appropriate!’

He shrugged, his face dispassionate. ‘I don’t remember you complaining at the time.’

His eyes were like the shimmering headlights of a car. She stared at him helplessly, hypnotised, horrified by her body’s fierce, swift response to his words and the image they conjured up.

Had she really let him do that to her? In a restaurant? There was an ache low down in her pelvis. Her whole body was suddenly shaking and it felt as though her insides were being sucked into a whirlpool. A memory—perfect, impossible, spinning apart into a hundred shades of gold—slid into her head. It had been so wildly, shockingly exciting. Even now she could hardly believe it had happened. Or that she had let it. What had she been thinking?

She felt her chest tighten and her skin start to burn, for of course Malachi had been right. What they’d shared had had very little to do with thought. Their entire relationship had been founded on passion, in his arms she’d been fierce, wild, hungry for his touch; he had awoken the hot, sensual woman beneath the quiet, dutiful young pianist who’d practised her scales every day—

Her stomach dipped. But thanks to him that woman didn’t exist any more.

Meeting his gaze, she gave him an icy stare. ‘Do you want me to leave right now?’

His eyes flickered across her face and, reaching out, he picked up a piece of bread and bit into it with strong white teeth. ‘Wouldn’t that be a little premature? I thought you came here to discuss your funding? If you leave now, sweetheart, you’ll go empty-handed. Besides...’

He gave her a slow, sexy grin that made something hot and scratchy scrape inside her.

‘I’m sure you don’t want to miss dessert.’

He was calling her bluff. He knew she had no choice but to stay. Meeting his gaze, her eyes narrowed into sharp shards of blue. He was so smug and annoying. How she hated him!

Except that she didn’t.

Not unless that ball of hot liquid heat swelling inside her so that her ribs ached was how hatred felt.

She swallowed. Around her she could almost hear the air hissing when it came into contact with her overheated skin. Surely she wasn’t supposed to feel like this—so breathless, so dazzled.

Watching him lounge back against the leather, his eyes gleaming with undisguised satisfaction, she felt a rush of pure white anger. ‘I know what you’re doing,’ she said breathlessly. ‘You’re trying to make me lose my temper so that I’ll leave.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that right? You know, it never ceases to amaze me how women can misinterpret even the simplest statement and put some spin on it.’

‘Spin!’ It took every ounce of willpower she had not to throw the contents of her glass into his infuriatingly handsome face. ‘You making vile innuendos is not spin,’ she snapped.

‘I didn’t make any innuendos. I was merely recounting historical fact.’

His eyes were dancing with a malice that made her want to scream out loud. He was impossible. And this meeting was a farce.

‘Well, I didn’t come here to have a history lesson,’ she hissed. ‘Especially a highly selective and one-sided one.’

The waiter was back again. ‘Was everything to your satisfaction, Mr King?’

‘It was perfect, thank you. The scallops were sublime and my wife thoroughly enjoyed her lobster salad—didn’t you, darling?’

My wife!

Startled, her eyes met his. ‘Yes, I did.’ Glancing up, she gave the waiter a perfunctory smile. ‘It was delicious.’ She waited, fuming, until the plates had been cleared away and they were alone again. ‘Why did you call me that?’

His look of blank incomprehension made her want to throttle him with her napkin.

‘Why wouldn’t I call you that? That is what you are,’ he said smoothly. ‘Surely you didn’t think you could just waltz back into my life and start demanding money but somehow avoid discussing our marriage?’

She shivered as his gaze fixed on her bare ring finger but, refusing to be cowed, she drew back her shoulders and met his stare defiantly.

‘I don’t want to talk about our marriage.’

‘Clearly,’ he said softly. ‘If you had, you would have got in touch over the last five years.’

She felt the blood drain from her face. ‘There was nothing stopping you from getting in touch. And I didn’t waltz back into your life and demand anything. I’m here because you insisted that I meet you and now you want to dictate what we talk about.’

Her voice echoed round the room and, looking up, she froze. The restaurant was no longer packed with diners. In fact she and Malachi appeared to be the only two people remaining, apart from the businessmen at the bar. She watched, her stomach clenching, as a waiter discreetly cleared a table and left the room.

‘We need to leave,’ she said hurriedly, glancing round again. ‘Lunchtime service is clearly over.’

Glancing over his shoulder, Malachi shrugged. ‘They can wait.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘You are so arrogant. These people have lives, Malachi. You can’t just expect them to hang around for hours.’

‘Why not? That’s what they’re paid to do,’ he said casually.

She glowered at him. ‘But not by you.’

There was a sudden, stinging pause. Glancing up, she saw that he was surveying her steadily, an odd light in his eyes. And suddenly the penny dropped.

‘You own this place?’ she croaked.

He nodded slowly, enjoying her shock. ‘Yes, I do.’ He paused, and there was a courteous edge to his voice that disguised the brutality of his words. ‘That’s why I chose to meet you here.’

She stared at him in confusion. For a moment her mind simply couldn’t absorb his words. ‘But you didn’t choose to meet me,’ she said slowly. ‘I followed you here.’

He looked at her almost regretfully, and suddenly her heart was beating so fast she thought it would burst. Glancing over at the men at the bar, she felt her jawline tighten. Had she really thought they were businessmen?

She shook her head in disbelief at her own naivety. ‘You had me followed. By them.’

Their eyes met—hers wide with outrage, his shimmering with satisfaction and her hands balled into fists. He was enjoying himself, the bastard!

He shrugged. ‘It’s their job. They spotted you outside the office.’

Heat was blistering her skin. He’d played her—acting as if he was surprised when all along he’d known she was coming. She felt a spasm of nausea. But was it that surprising, really? He’d always been good at pretending. Look at the way he’d convinced her that he loved her.

She stood up so suddenly that the men at the bar leaped off their stools.

‘I should never have come here. As if you could ever behave like a mature, responsible adult—’

‘Sit down.’ Leaning forward, he spoke quietly, but the authority in his voice was enough to make her stop and look at him.

‘Why? I don’t want to talk to you.’

‘Yes, you do. That’s why you followed me.’

He leaned back in his seat, unfazed by her anger, and irritably she realised that despite her plans he was the one calling the shots. He always had been. It was just that she hadn’t realised it until that moment.

‘Come on, Addie. Sit down.’ His voice had shifted, softened. ‘Look, I’m going to give you your money. I always was.’ Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a piece of paper and slid it across the table. ‘It’s a copy of a bank transaction. It was wired to your account...’ he glanced casually at his watch ‘...about twenty minutes ago.’ His eyes flickered over her taut expression. ‘Relax, sweetheart. You got what you came for. That is what you came for, isn’t it?’ He smiled. ‘Now, why don’t you just take a seat and we can both try and act like mature, responsible adults.’

Trying to keep what little remained of her dignity, she sat down and stared at him coldly.

His eyes gleamed. ‘Go on. Take it.’

Reluctantly she reached out and picked up the slip of paper. Staring down at it, she felt her face drain of colour. ‘This is the wrong amount.’ She looked back down, then, blinking, lifted her head in confusion. ‘This is double what I was expecting.’

His eyes didn’t leave hers. ‘Think of it as an anniversary present.’

Carefully she put the paper down on the table. ‘That’s incredibly generous of you,’ she said hoarsely.

‘I’m glad you approve.’

His tone was pleasant, but something in his eyes made a shiver of apprehension run down her spine and she glanced nervously at the slip of paper again, half feaing she might have imagined it. But it was definitely real.

‘It really is very generous,’ she said stiffly. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done if I hadn’t got the money. It means so much to me. Thank you.’ She breathed out. ‘How long will it take to clear?’ She knew she sounded gauche but she didn’t care. If Malachi wanted to gloat—let him.

‘Around two hours.’ He paused and looked past her at the dark clouds and the grey swelling sea outside, and she felt that shiver of apprehension spike painfully through her skin. ‘But before you start spending it I need to make a few things clear.’

She nodded. ‘Of course. Do you want me to sign a contract? I can do that now.’

He turned and slowly, very slowly, smiled at her.

‘That won’t be necessary. You see, that money didn’t come from King Industries. It came from me. From my personal bank account. And my terms are personal too.’

She swallowed—or tried to swallow at least—past the lump in her throat.

‘What do you mean “personal”?’ she croaked. Around her the air felt hot and leaden and the room was growing darker. ‘What do you mean?’ she repeated, and the lump felt sharp and jagged now.

His voice was soft, just as it had been when he’d promised to love and honour and cherish her for ever. But the lines of his face were knife sharp and harder than stone.

‘I’ve been very patient, sweetheart, but you owe me a honeymoon.’

‘I—I don’t understand.’

His gaze swept over her slowly.

‘Then let me explain. I want you to come away with me for a month. To be my mistress.’

His eyes locked on to hers, pinning her against the leather upholstery.

‘Do that and you can keep the money. Who knows? There might even be a little bonus in it for you as well.’

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