Australian Bachelors: Masterful Magnates: Purchased: His Perfect Wife

‘Pay up by midnight tomorrow. Or else.’ His grip tightened. ‘Blink if you’ve got the message.’

Lara instantly obeyed, almost choking beneath his relentless grip, then he released her and disappeared out the front entrance as she subsided to the floor in a state of shock.

‘Hey. You OK?’

She looked up in dazed terror, recognized a male tenant, and tried to speak … except no sound came out. ‘You need help?’ Like you wouldn’t believe! ‘Want me to call someone?’

There was only one person who could handle this mess, and Lara reached into her purse, withdrew Wolfe’s card and indicated the mobile-phone number written on the back.

She was dimly aware of a brief one-sided conversation, then the tenant led her into her room, sat her down and applied a dampened towel to her throat.

Lara had little recollection of how long it took Wolfe to appear … only that suddenly he was there, looming large in the small room, his features grim as he took in her pale features, the darkness apparent in her eyes.

He didn’t say a word as he took the few steps necessary to reach her, and her gaze never left his as he hunkered down in front of her.

With care he removed the damp towel, and a muscle bunched in one cheek as he saw the reddened marks apparent, noted the pain it caused her to swallow, and trailed gentle fingers along the underside of her jaw. He was close, too close, she registered … and she hated that he appeared to swamp her.

She was aware of him thanking her rescuer, then closing and locking the door as the tenant left, and she watched as he returned to her side.

‘Give me the contact number.’

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand, and she retrieved a card from her pocket and gave it to him, watching as he made the call on his phone.

There were terse, hard words as Wolfe made arrangements to pay her debt in full at a mutually agreed time and place.

He slid the phone into his jacket pocket, and retrieved his wallet. ‘What do you owe on this place?’

The rent was paid in advance and up to date. It had to be, or personal belongings were held for a week, then both tenant and belongings were out on the street.

She attempted to speak, heard the croaking sound, and resorted to hand signals, watching as he anchored a large bill beneath her room-key on the scarred dresser.

The room was spartan, comprising a single bed, a dresser and chair, and a tiny wardrobe. There were shared bathrooms, a shared kitchen at the end of the hallway and a communal lounge. A laundry was situated in a separate building out back of the house.

‘You have a bag?’

Lara spared him a startled look.

‘For your belongings,’ Wolfe elaborated. ‘You’re not staying here.’

She was tired, jumpy with nerves, and she shook her head in a defenceless gesture. Where could she go at this time of night?

‘My hotel,’ he informed her as if she’d spoken, and her eyes blazed as she opened her mouth, then closed it again, aware that anything she said would emerge as an indistinguishable refusal.

He opened the small free-standing wardrobe, removed a capacious sports bag and placed it on the single bed.

Lara rose to her feet as he began opening drawers, refusing to have him go through her things.

Not that it had the slightest effect, as she battled with him in transferring contents from the wardrobe and dresser-drawers.

It didn’t take long, and when they were done he took hold of the bag, indicated the door, and followed her out to the Lexus.

Any words seemed superfluous, and they rode the arterial route into the inner city in silence, reaching the Darling Harbour hotel, where the concierge organized valet-parking while Wolfe collected her bag.

Lara accompanied him as he bypassed Reception and headed towards a bank of lifts, and when the doors of one slid open he indicated she precede him, then he hit the button for a high floor.

She prayed that he didn’t intend her to share his suite. Or, if he did, she hoped it contained two beds, or at least a sofa.

‘Relax.’ His voice held a drawling quality minutes later as he swiped a keycard into the slot.

Sure, and she could do that?

‘I’d prefer a room of my own.’ The words were hopelessly husky, even to her own ears.

‘Accept it’s not going to happen. Your security is paramount until the loan shark is paid off.’

‘But—’

‘It isn’t subject to negotiation,’ Wolfe said hardly.

‘I don’t want to share with you,’ she attempted to convey.

His gaze lanced her own, his eyes darkly obdurate. ‘Deal with it, Lara. At the moment seduction isn’t on the agenda.’

That was supposed to be reassurance?

It was a large suite, Lara registered as he flicked on the lights, with two queen-size beds … a minor concession in the scheme of things.

A fleeting glance revealed there were two comfortable chairs positioned close to a wall of glass, shaded by floor-to-ceiling drapes. A small table and two serviceable dining chairs, a desk containing a fax machine, internet connection, the requisite television console, mini-bar.

Wolfe deposited her bag, then he crossed to the bedside phone, dialled Reception and requested medical assistance.

Lara shook her head and croaked a definitive, ‘No,’ only to be subjected to a raking appraisal.

‘A doctor on call, or the accident-and-emergency ward of a private hospital. Choose.’

The thought of attending the latter—the form-filling, the inevitable questions—held little appeal, and she shrugged, too wound up to argue with him.

‘Sit down.’

She watched as he removed his jacket, collected a hand towel, extracted ice from the mini-fridge, assembled a cold-pack and placed it along her jaw line.

‘Keep it there.’

Wolfe crossed to the buffet and set the electric kettle to heat.

She was briefly aware of his impressive breadth of shoulder, the economical ease of movement as he completed the task.

A few minutes later he handed her a cup and saucer, then he took a nearby chair and regarded her steadily.

She sipped and cautiously swallowed the hot, sweet tea, and waited several seconds before repeating the action.

‘Is there anything else you haven’t told me?’ Wolfe queried silkily.

‘No.’ Lara closed her eyes, then slowly opened them again, all too aware how foolish she’d been in not calling the loan shark before leaving the restaurant.

‘It wouldn’t have made any difference. You were out of time, and loan sharks are notorious for their hardline tactics.’

Her eyes widened as they met his.

He read minds?

Or was hers transparent?

‘Drink your tea. A doctor should be here soon.’

‘Soon’ seemed an age, although it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes before an imperious knock on the door heralded the doctor’s arrival.

Credentials were offered, introductions completed. The answering of a few pertinent questions and an examination resulted in the assurance her larynx wasn’t damaged, the bruising would duly emerge and subside, and her voice should return to normal by morning.

He handed over a sample pack of painkillers and a sedative, accepted his fee and left.

Lara unpacked a few essentials and headed into the en suite. A shower helped ease some of the tension, and she enjoyed the luxury of a seemingly endless supply of hot water … so different from the boarding house, where an inadequate hot-water system meant lukewarm ablutions.

Dry, she pulled on a large cotton tee-shirt, added briefs, caught her hair together in a single plait, completed her nightly routine, then emerged to find Wolfe waiting for her, pills and a glass of water in hand.

‘Take these, then go to bed. You’re beat.’

Oh great. As if she needed to be reminded of her mirrored image, the dark, dilated eyes in a waxen, pale face.

Without a word she took the pills and swallowed each one cautiously with water, then she slid beneath the covers on the bed closest to the external glass-wall.

‘Thanks.’ A huskily voiced word meant to encompass much.

Wolfe inclined his head as he switched off the lights with the exception of a lamp on the desk, then he opened his laptop and soon became engrossed with data on-screen.

Lara closed her eyes and willed the medication to take effect as she relived walking into the house, making the phone call in the hallway … her assailant appearing out of nowhere and the resultant fracas.

It was all too easy to feel a hand gripping the top of her throat, the resultant pain and pressure as he lifted and slammed her hard against the wall … and the fear.

A shiver shook her slim frame, and she unconsciously curled her body into a protective ball.

She was here with Wolfe, and safe.

But for how long?

Soon she’d become his wife, and face another hurdle … that of sharing his life without allowing herself the benefit of emotional attachment.

Difficult, when she had vivid recall of the frankly sensual touch of his mouth on her own, and the electrifying passion he’d effortlessly aroused. It had blown her away, and had become an unconscious benchmark which sadly no other man had matched.

So where did that leave her?

It suddenly became too difficult to think, and her breathing slowed as she was claimed by sedative-induced sleep … unaware of the man who worked a little longer, showered, then slid in between the covers of the other bed.

CHAPTER FOUR

LARA became aware of light, when her subconscious expected darkness, and there was the tantalizing drift of fresh coffee teasing the air as she shifted in bed and slowly opened her eyes.

The hotel suite, Wolfe … Each descended in a heartbeat.

The small banker’s-lamp glowed on the desk where Wolfe was seated, keying data into his laptop.

What was the time? Her watch … where was it?

She checked the bedside pedestal, saw the offending timepiece and snatched it up.

Six.

The markets. She was in danger of missing the early-morning fish market.

In one swift movement she threw back the bedcovers and rose to her feet, then she quickly pulled on jeans and dragged on a sweatshirt.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

Wolfe’s silky drawl drew a fraught glance in his direction as she slid her feet into trainers.

‘Going to the fish market,’ she said without thought to her voice, or its return. ‘I should have been there an hour ago.’

The sedative she’d taken had to have been responsible for her sleeping through the alarm. Or, she reflected hurriedly, given the night’s events, had she even remembered to activate it?

Whatever; it hardly mattered. Her main priority was to reach the markets before the fishermen loaded up their catch and began their deliveries.

‘Call in an order.’

‘That’s not how I choose my supplies.’

Deft fingers smoothed her hair into a ponytail, then she reached for her jacket, collected her shoulderbag and crossed the room. Only to find Wolfe blocking her way.

Clad in jeans and a cotton tee-shirt, he exuded a raw masculinity … heightened by the fact he had yet to shave, and the dark stubble added a primitive air she endeavoured to ignore.

‘Enlighten me.’

‘Personal selection ensures good quality,’ she elaborated. ‘And I prefer wholesale to retail prices.’

He let his gaze travel over her features. ‘You’ve had less than five hours’ sleep.’

‘So what else is new?’ She wanted to hit him, and for a brief second she considered it. Except there was a warning stillness that boded ill for any retaliatory action.

‘Can we have this argument later, rather than now?’

Without a further word he shrugged into a jacket, collected keys, wallet, and the room keycard. ‘Let’s go.’

She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again and followed him out to the bank of lifts.

Lara was aware of the concierge calling up Wolfe’s car, whereupon she gave Wolfe directions as they traversed slick wet streets, and a short while later they caught sight of fishmongers loading what was left of the catch.

Without a word she slid from the car and hailed two men by name as she raced towards them.

Wolfe cut the engine and emerged into the cool morning air, to lean lazily against the Lexus as Lara went into action, watching as she offered apologies and issued a plea to view and select her restaurant’s daily order of fresh fish, lobster, local crustaceans and prawns.

Wolfe witnessed the men’s expressions change from irritation to philosophical acceptance, and glimpsed Lara’s answering smile as they conceded her choices.

A short while later Lara returned to the car, and he straightened to his full height.

‘I gather you saved the day.’

She had, at wholesale prices. The alternative, if she’d been any later, would have meant buying at inflated retail cost. ‘Thanks.’

‘That’s it?’

‘For now.’

‘Why do I get the feeling there’s more?’

She crossed round to the passenger side, and relayed the day’s schedule as she opened the door. ‘I get to have an hour’s sleep, grab breakfast and hit the restaurant around nine.’

He leaned an arm against the roof and regarded her carefully. ‘Not today.’

‘Today.’ She slid into the seat, aware he copied her actions.

He fired the engine, and cast her a piercing look. ‘It’s not negotiable.’

‘The hell it isn’t.’ Her eyes sparked blue fire as anger rose to the surface. ‘Our deal, for want of a better word, begins when we sign the marriage certificate.’ Which, God willing, wouldn’t happen for another week or more at least.

She needed time to adjust to the idea of sleeping with him. Oh, get it right … intimacy. Even the mere thought elevated her pulse-rate and did strange things to her equilibrium.

If only she could indulge in the physical, and hold her emotions in check. Engage the body, but close out the mind.

Fat chance. He’d engaged her emotionally from the moment she’d first met him … something which hadn’t changed in a decade.

And now she would soon take his name, share her body with his, and attempt to pretend it was OK.

The early-morning rain shower had ceased, and the grey dawn subsided as the sun began colouring the landscape.

Light traffic traversed the streets, and within minutes they reached the hotel.

‘I’ll go work out in the gym,’ Wolfe indicated as he unlocked the suite.

Lara inclined her head as she toed off her trainers and shed her jacket, then she set her watch alarm and backed it up by requesting a wake-up call.

While she did that, he exchanged his jeans for sweats, caught up a towel and slung it over one shoulder, then he exited the suite as she crawled beneath the bedcovers.

A short morning nap was so much a part of her daily routine she was asleep within minutes.

The next thing she knew was the sound of the alarm buzzing in tandem with the insistent peal of the phone relaying her wake-up call, and she reached for the handset, closed the alarm, swung her legs out from the bed … and saw Wolfe unloading their breakfast tray onto the table.

‘Hi.’

‘You had no trouble sleeping?’

He’d showered, shaved and exchanged sweats for tailored trousers and a business shirt left unbuttoned at the neck.

‘The habit of years,’ Lara managed evenly.

He examined her features and the tumbled ash-blonde hair drifting onto each cheek. There was evidence of faint bruising beginning to emerge on the underside of her jawline, and he masked a momentary surge of anger.

With her, for neglecting to fill him in with the finer details of precisely who she’d owed money to and when it had been due for payment.

Wolfe pointed at the table. ‘Come and eat while the food is hot.’

Lara rose to her feet in one fluid movement and automatically loosened the tie holding her hair in place. ‘Give me a few minutes.’

She collected fresh clothes and attempted to ignore the way her stomach executed a backwards flip as she moved past him.

He disturbed her more than she was prepared to admit, and there was a sense of temporary relief as she reached the en suite.

In a matter of minutes she was done, and she emerged feeling better equipped to face whatever the day might bring.

Lara couldn’t pinpoint the last time she’d had a cooked breakfast, and she slid into a chair as Wolfe joined her at the table.

Coffee—hot, black and sweet—was liquid ambrosia, and she forked a portion of eggs Benedict, savoured it, then continued eating with renewed appetite.

‘First up this morning is a legal appointment,’ Wolfe began. ‘Followed by various real-estate inspections.’

‘You intend buying a house?’

‘We need somewhere to live.’

The plural ‘we’ caused sensation to spiral deep inside, and she took a soothing sip of coffee, then carefully placed the cup down onto its saucer. There was the home Darius and Suzanne had shared …

‘No,’ Wolfe refuted quietly, accurately reading her thought pattern. ‘That isn’t a consideration.’

If he insisted on adding to his property portfolio, why should she attempt to argue?

‘After lunch we’ll fit in some shopping before I meet with Darius’ managerial staff.’

He worked fast, she accorded silently. Although what else did she expect?

Her chin lifted a little as she met his gaze and held it. ‘You could have checked with me first. The restaurant is operating on minimum staff. I have to be there. There’s no one else to take my place at such short notice.’

Wolfe’s gaze narrowed. ‘Find someone.’

‘Sure.’ Her eyes blazed a brilliant blue. ‘I’ll just wave a magic wand and, poof, a sous chef will appear out of nowhere, ready to start—’ she checked her watch ‘—in half an hour.’

His expression didn’t change, and the smooth silkiness in his voice held a silent warning. ‘Take care of it, Lara.’

‘Or you will?’

One eyebrow lifted in silent cynicism. ‘Yes.’

Time out for a deep breath or three. ‘Hiring someone,’ she managed with attempted calm, ‘is my responsibility.’

‘Make it a priority. A celebrant will conduct our marriage on Sunday morning, after which we fly to New York.’

Her stomach executed a quick somersault and refused to settle. ‘Excuse me?’

Wolfe leaned back in his chair and regarded her steadily. ‘You heard.’

The nerves deep inside pulled tight almost to the point of pain, and she pushed her plate aside. ‘Do I have a choice?’

‘No.’

Succinct, adamant and spoken with an indolence that made her wary.

‘Why? My presence in New York will be totally unnecessary. You’ll be wheeling and dealing by day, and—’

‘Sharing your bed at night.’

Did hearts stop? She was willing to swear hers had. What was more, for several long seconds it seemed her whole body shut down. Then she remembered to breathe.

‘Payback time,’ she managed. ‘How could I have forgotten?’

‘Should I be flattered or flattened?’

Lara summoned a deliberate smile. ‘Flattened, definitely.’

His faint laughter sent goosebumps scudding down her spine. A reaction she refused to examine in any detail.

In order to survive, living with Wolfe would mean adopting a façade. Something she shouldn’t find too difficult, given she’d had practice presenting a sociable mask on the occasion she’d found herself in Wolfe’s presence.

‘Finish your coffee.’ He checked his watch. ‘We need to leave.’ Without a further word he crossed to the console and collected a set of keys.

She wanted to protest, and almost did. Except one look into those dark grey eyes was sufficient warning she couldn’t win.

He moved in close and pressed a forefinger to her lips. ‘Don’t push it.’

Within minutes she slid her feet into comfortable shoes, applied lipgloss, then caught up her shoulderbag and accompanied Wolfe from the suite.

The legalities were straightforward; the lawyer’s explanation merely endorsed Wolfe’s instructions, and the pre-nuptial agreement drawn at Lara’s insistence absolved Wolfe from providing her with anything other than a home, and a generous allowance. Any children issuing from the marriage would become their joint financial responsibility.

Signatures were applied to various documentation and duly witnessed, the lawyer offered his congratulations and best wishes … and it was done.

Sunday. Dear heaven. Five days.

Don’t think about it, she cautioned silently as she accompanied Wolfe down to the car. Just take what each day throws at you, and achieve what you can.

Not the best scenario for someone who coveted perfection in most things. Especially finding a suitable sous chef in so short a time.

Or the number of things quickly escalating in her mind as Wolfe eased the Lexus out of its parking bay.

‘Is there a close relative you’d like to witness our civil ceremony on Sunday? Your father, perhaps?’

Suzanne had been an only child; there were no aunts, uncles or cousins. Just her father … a man who’d declined to attend his ex-wife’s funeral, and was unlikely to accept an invitation to his daughter’s wedding.

‘No.’

It didn’t take long to reach the Rocks, and she released the safety belt as soon as he slid to a halt adjacent to her restaurant.

She reached for the door latch. ‘Thanks.’

‘Call my mobile phone when you’re done for the evening.’

Lara paused in the process of closing the passenger door, a refusal on the tip of her lips, only to have him lean towards her.

‘Do it, Lara,’ he reiterated, and she simply pushed the door closed and filched a set of keys from her bag.

The rest of the day proved hectic, with a discrepancy in produce supplies necessitating phone calls and an adjustment to the lunch menu.

The title ‘chef’, in Lara’s instance, covered a broad spectrum as she checked food preparation, utilized her cooking skills, took care of business, and ensured everything ran smoothly to plan.

Temperament, swearing and hissy fits were not tolerated, and the motto in her kitchen varied from ‘just do it’, ‘suck it up’, to ‘customer satisfaction rules’.

The team comprised junior chefs and wait staff who worked well together, surmounting the inevitable daily hiccup with minimum angst and occasional humour.

By early afternoon Lara had apprised the staff of her temporary absence in New York, her marriage, and provided assurance their jobs were secure.

News which both Shontelle and Sally refused to accept without voiced concern, and they urged a confrontation as the staff returned to their positions.

‘Like, why … and why the rush?’ Sally quietly demanded.

‘Wolfe has to get back to New York, and he wants to get married before we leave.’

‘I can go with that. Except there are holes in the overall story,’ Shontelle pursued with a faint frown.

‘Uh-huh,’ Sally agreed. ‘You’re not exactly the ecstatic, starry-eyed bride-to-be. So what gives?’

They deserved her honesty, for they’d worked together, shared much, and had provided unstinting support when Paul, her business partner, had left her financially bereft.

Lara provided the expurgated version, encapsulating it in one sentence, and went on to explain, ‘I hated that my trust in Paul was totally misplaced … ashamed he managed to fool me so successfully. I’ve fought hard to hold on to Lara’s … something I couldn’t have managed without your support, and your willingness to go that extra mile for me,’ she added with sincerity. ‘I care for Wolfe, and I know he’s an honourable man with whom I’ll share a pleasant life. Our forthcoming marriage is a sensible solution,’ she concluded.

‘And you’re OK to settle with sensible?’ Sally queried with concern. ‘If he gives you grief, he’ll pay—big time,’ Sally promised.