Harlequin Presents January 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Sheikh's Desert Duty\Nine Months to Redeem Him\Fonseca's Fury\The Russian's Ultimatum (30 page)

“Didn't notice?” Edward looked handsome, British and rich, a million miles out of my league in his tailored suit and tie. A warrior tycoon ready to do battle by any means—with his fists, if necessary.

But his eyes looked tired. I suddenly yearned to take him in my arms, to make him feel better. But I doubted my news would do that.

“Edward.” I swallowed. “We need to talk....”

“We're late,” he said shortly. “I need to change.”

Turning, he raced back up the stairs, his long legs taking the steps three at a time. He seemed in foul temper for a CEO that had just made a billion-dollar deal. In record time, he returned downstairs, wearing a designer tuxedo, and looking more devilishly handsome than any man should look. I felt a sudden ache in my heart. “You look very handsome.”

“Thanks.” He didn't return the compliment. Instead, his lips twisted down grimly as he held out my long black coat, wrapping it around my shoulders. His voice was cold. “Ready?”

“Yes,” I said, although I'd never felt less ready in my life. We left the house, getting into the backseat of the waiting car.

“How was your audition today?” he asked abruptly as his driver closed the car door.

As the driver pulled the car smoothly from the curb, I looked at Edward, suddenly uneasy. I licked my lips. “It was...surprising, actually.”

“You're lying,” he said flatly. “You didn't even go.”

“I did go,” I said indignantly. “I just didn't stay, because... Wait.” I frowned. “How do you know?”

“The director is a friend of mine. He was going to give you
special consideration.
” Edward glared at me. “He called me this afternoon to say you never even bothered to show. You lied to me.” He tilted his head. “And this isn't the first time, is it?”

Lifting my chin, I looked him full in the face. “I haven't done a single audition since we got here.”

He looked staggered. “Why?”

I tried to shrug, to act like it didn't matter. “I didn't feel like it.”

His jaw tightened. “So you've lied to me for the last two months. And every morning before I left for work, I wished you good luck... I feel like a fool. Why did you lie?”

As the car wove through the Friday evening traffic on Kensington Road, I saw the Albert Memorial in Kensington Gardens, the ornate monument to Queen Victoria's young husband whom she'd mourned for forty years after he died. I took a deep breath. “I didn't want to disappoint you.”

“Well, you have.” His jaw went tight as he looked out at the passing lights of the city reflected in the rain. We turned north, toward Mayfair. “I didn't take you for a liar. Or a coward.”

It was like being stabbed in the heart. I took a shuddering breath.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered. “Why didn't you tell me the director was your friend?”

“I wanted you to think you'd gotten the part on your own.”

“Because you think I can't?”

He shook his head grimly. “You hadn't gotten a single role. I thought I could help. I didn't tell you because...” He set his jaw. “It just feels better to be self-made.”

“How would you know?” I cried.

I regretted the words the instant they were out of my mouth. Hurt pride had made me cruel. But as I opened my mouth to apologize, the car stopped. Our door opened.

Edward gave me a smile that didn't meet his eyes. “Time to party.”

He held out his arm stiffly on the sidewalk. I took it, feeling wretched and angry and ashamed all at once. We walked into the party, past a uniformed doorman.

Rupert St. Cyr, Edward's cousin, had a lavish mansion, complete with an indoor pool, a five-thousand-bottle wine cellar, a huge gilded ballroom with enormous crystal chandeliers hanging from a forty-foot ceiling and very glamorous, wealthy people dancing to a jazz quartet.

“Congratulations!”

“You old devil, I don't know how you did it. Well done.”

Edward smiled and nodded distantly as people came up to congratulate him on the business deal. I clutched his arm as we walked toward the coat room.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered.

“I'm sorry I ever tried to help you,” he said under his breath.

“I shouldn't have lied to you.” I bit my lip. “But something happened at the audition today, something that you should...”

“Spare me the excuses,” he bit out. He narrowed his eyes. “This is exactly why I usually end love affairs after a few weeks. Before all the lies can start!”

I stopped, feeling sick and dizzy. “You're threatening to break up with me? Just because I didn't go to auditions?”

“Because you lied to my face about it,” he said in a low voice, his eyes shooting sparks of blue fire. “I don't give a damn what you do. If you don't want to act, be a ditchdigger, child minder, work in a shop. Stay at home and do nothing for all I care. Just be honest about it.”

“Auditioning is so hard,” I choked out. I knew I wasn't doing myself any favors trying to explain but I couldn't help it. “Facing brutal rejection, day after day. I have no friends here. No connections.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared at me. “You wish you were back in L.A. Is that what you're saying?”

His expression looked so strange, I hardly knew what to say. “Yes. I mean, no....”

Beneath the gilded chandeliers of the ballroom, Edward's expression hardened. So did his voice. “If you want to go, then go.”

I shriveled up inside.

Turning, he left the coat room, leaving me to trail behind him.

“Edward!” I heard a throaty coo, and looking up, I saw Victoria St. Cyr coming toward us. “And Diana. What a pleasant surprise.” Insultingly, she looked me up and down, and my cheeks went hot. My cocktail dress that had seemed so daring and sexy suddenly felt like layers of tacky trash bags twisted tightly around my zaftig body, especially compared to the elegantly draped gray dress over her severely thin frame. She bared her teeth into a smile. “How very...charming that you're still with us. And surprising.”

Things only went downhill from there.

I did not fit into Edward's world. I felt insecure and out of place. Clutching his arm, I clung to him pathetically as he walked through the party. Even as he drank short glasses of port with the other men, and traded verbal barbs with his cousin, I tried to be part of the conversation, to act as if I belonged. To act as if my heart weren't breaking.

And Edward acted as if I weren't there, holding his arm tightly. Finally, my pride couldn't take it.

“Excuse me,” I murmured, forcing my hands off his arm. “I need a drink.”

“I'll get it for you,” Edward said politely, as if I were a stranger, some old lady on the subway.

“No.” I held up my hand. “I, um, see someone I need to talk to. Excuse me.”

Was that relief I saw in his eyes as I walked away?

Awkwardly, I glanced toward Victoria St. Cyr and her friends standing by the dance floor. Turning the other way, I headed toward the buffet table. At least here I knew what to do. Grabbing a plate, I helped myself to crackers, bread, cheese—anything that promised to settle this sick feeling in my belly.

Was there any point in telling Edward I was pregnant, when it was clear he was already thinking up excuses to end our relationship?

“It won't last.”

Victoria stood behind me, with two of her friends.

I stared at her. “Excuse me?”

“Don't mind her,” one of the friends said. “She's not used to seeing Edward with a girlfriend.”

Girlfriend
made it sound like we were exclusive. Which we weren't. Well, obviously I was not dating anyone else. Was he?

My breath caught in my throat as I suddenly looked at all his late nights in a brand new light. The nights he hadn't even come home, when I'd assumed he was at work...could he have been with someone else? He'd never promised me fidelity, after all. I hadn't received a single word of commitment or love. In fact, he'd promised me the opposite.

“I wouldn't say I'm his girlfriend,” I said thickly.

Victoria pounced. “What are you then?”

“His, um, physical therapist.”

They all stared at me, then burst out laughing.

“Oh, is that what they're calling it now,” one said knowingly.

“It's true.” At least it used to be true. “Edward was in a car accident in September...”

“That's right.” Victoria St. Cyr looked at me thoughtfully. Diamond bangles clacked over the music of the nearby quartet as she held up her hand. “Doesn't that all make you worry?”

“What?”

“Edward's accident.” She sighed. “He was so in love with that American maid who worked at a nearby house.” She looked me over insultingly. “She looked rather like you, in fact. When she fell pregnant, he helped her leave London and flew her all over the world for a year. But when she had the chance to marry the father of her baby, she dropped Edward without a thought.”

“The other man was a Spanish duke,” her friend added, as if that explained everything.

“Edward actually tried to blackmail her into leaving her new husband—and her baby. Fortunately, the car flipped down the hill. But if the Duke and Duchess of Alzacar had pressed charges, Edward would be in jail.” Shaking her head, she said coldly, “He
should
be in jail. Rupert should be CEO.”

Did she think this new knowledge would devastate me? “I know all that,” I said coldly, though I was shaking. “And you're wrong. Whatever mistakes Edward made in the past, he deserves to lead St. Cyr Global. He'd never sink a billion-pound deal like his cousin tried to do.” I drew myself up. “He's twice the man your husband is.”

Victoria stared at me dangerously.

“Your loyalty is adorable,” she said softly. “But let me offer you a little friendly advice.”

Friendly?
Right
. I said guardedly, “Yes?”

“I understand your attraction. Truly, I do. The night I met Edward, I wanted him so badly, I would have done anything to get into his bed.
Anything.
” Her lips pursed. “Luckily I met Rupert before any damage could be done.”

“Your point?”

Her thin lips curled. “Edward is poison for women. You'll see. He keeps a lover just long enough to use her body and break her heart before he tosses her in the rubbish bin. How long have you two been together now? Two months? Three?” She shook her head with a pitying sound. “You're
long
past your sell-by date. Here.” She pushed a card into my hands. “Call me when you need a shoulder to cry on.”

And she swept past me grandly, her entourage trailing behind her.

Numbly, I looked down at the embossed card. It was like a business card, only gilded and elegant and clearly for society. It was the craziest thing I'd ever seen.

Crumpling the card into a ball, I shoved it in my purse. Even living among the sharks of the entertainment industry hadn't prepared me for this. Edward's family was
awful.
No wonder he'd been a sitting duck for the first reasonably kindhearted person he met—that American girl he hadn't wanted to let go. Because he loved her so much.

While he was ready to dump me for a white lie I'd told, just because I'd wanted so desperately for him to think the best of me.

Turning blindly from the buffet, I ran into a brick wall. Edward was standing behind me. I wondered how long he'd been there.

“Having a good time?” he asked, his face inscrutable.

“No,” I choked out.

“It might be better with champagne.”

“I don't want any.” I looked up at his handsome face. Was he already trying to figure out how best to end our relationship? How to let me down easy, and without a fuss?

I wanted him to love me. I wanted him to hold me close and never let go. Everything he'd told me—from the beginning—would never happen. Stupid. So stupid!

My voice was nearly a sob. “I just want to go home.”

For a long moment, Edward just looked at me. All around us in the ballroom, beautiful, glamorous people were laughing and talking, celebrating, and a few had started dancing to the music from the quartet. But as he looked into my tearful eyes, for a split second it was as if the two of us were alone again. Just like at Penryth Hall.

“All right,” he said quietly. Taking my hand, he pulled me from the ballroom, stopping for my coat. His driver collected us at the curb.

The streets of London seemed darker than usual. The rain had stopped, and the clouds had lifted. The night was frosty and soundless.

We walked into his dark, silent house after he punched in the alarm code. I started to go up the stairs. He stopped me.

“I never told you,” he said huskily, pulling me into his arms, “how beautiful you looked tonight.”

My heart went faster. “I did?”

“The most beautiful woman there by far.” Pulling me closer, he twirled a long tendril of my hair around his finger and murmured, “I was glad when you left to get a drink, because the other men were flirting with you so indecently I thought I'd have to punch them.”

“They were flirting with me?” I said dumbly. I had no memory of any of this alleged flirting, or of any of the men who'd surrounded us. I just remembered clinging to Edward's arm like a silent idiot.

“Any man would want you.” His hand traced up my shoulder, my neck. “You're the most desirable woman I've ever known.”

“More than the woman you loved in Spain?” I heard myself blurt out.

His hand grew still. His ice-blue eyes met mine. “Why do you say that?”

I swallowed. But I couldn't back down now. “Victoria told me you took care of her for a year, helping her when she was pregnant. After she married someone else, you still loved her. You wouldn't let her go. You were willing to die for her.” I stopped.