The Arranged Marriage (14 page)

If it didn’t interfere too much with being a proper mother for Marco, she would try it. At least it would be something to focus her energy on, something that might lead somewhere good in the days, weeks, years that stretched so emptily ahead of her right now.

Don’t undersell yourself, Alex had said.

How could someone who was worth nothing undersell herself?

Totally soul-sick, Gina watched Peter carrying their drinks back to the table. Whatever he offered her was better than nothing. Listen to him, she fiercely told herself. If Peter had a proposition that was workable within her circumstances, not neglecting Marco’s needs, she would say
yes.

As to what terms would be fair, how could she judge? She would have to trust Peter on that. The end result had to be more money for her anyway. So best to say yes. Go home with something positive to think about, something positive to look forward to.

The dream of Alex King wanting to share her life, be her husband and the father of her children, was gone, and she couldn’t see any other man ever filling that role.

Time to start building a different dream.

“Here we are!”

Peter set the drinks on the table and settled himself in the chair opposite hers. No sexy flirtatiousness in his eyes today. He seemed to be viewing her with sympathetic concern. Was her inner distress so obvious?

“One thing I want to get straight first, Peter,” she blurted out, realising there were some terms she had to enforce if she was to be comfortable working with him.

He nodded encouragingly.

“This is business, right?”

He nodded again.

“You have a...a sexy manner. I don’t want you to come onto me in any shape or form. We sing together. That’s it.”

He heaved a sigh. A cynical disillusionment settled on his face. “If it’s there, and I feel like it, I take it.” His shrug dismissed that aspect of his life as non-consequential. “My experience is I’m no good at personal relationships, but a celibate life doesn’t appeal, either.” His eyes bored directly into hers. “I know it’s not there with you, Gina. Nor do I want it to be there. It would interfere with business. So, believe me, no amount of randiness would make me risk losing your voice.”

Could she believe him?

He leaned forward, forearms resting on the table, his hands spread in open appeal. “In this business, a sexy manner helps to sell a performance. It creates an intimacy with the audience. I’m not about to tone that down. On the other hand, should we come to an agreement, and I very much hope we can, at all times offstage I shall treat you as my little sister. I don’t want any friction between us. I want us to work in harmony to produce the best act we can. Okay?”

He looked sincerely intent on persuading her this was so. “A little sister,” she repeated, not quite seeing the very raffish Peter Owen in the role of big brother.

His mouth tilted ironically. “I’ve never had a family. You’ll have to teach me how I should behave.”

“No family?” That was unimaginable to Gina.

He grinned. “I’m just an orphan boy making my own way in the world.” The grin winked out and a very focused energy was aimed at her as he added, “I have learnt how to protect my interests and you come under that umbrella, Gina. You won’t get any grief from me. In fact, I’ll be the first to stand between you and anything that might have a negative effect on your performance.”

He was telling her that above everything else he was a professional. She could count on the success of their singing partnership being his prime consideration where she was concerned.

“Fair enough,” she murmured gratefully. “What do you have in mind?”

He explained.

She liked the plan.

It was easy to agree to it.

It felt good to have something to look forward to.

Danny
was helping himself to leftover lasagne and feeding Marco at the same time when Gina arrived home from her meeting with Peter. The congenial understanding between uncle and nephew reminded her that Marco had more than enough male relatives to take the place of a father—her brothers, her own father, Angelo’s family. Her son was certainly not deprived of male influence and interest.

“What did you think of the white-water rafting?” she asked, managing a smile that projected interest.

“It was fun, Mama,” Marco instantly piped up.

“Sure was,” Danny agreed. “I think I’ll get my finger in that tourist pie.”

“Not too dangerous?”

“Not if it’s properly run. They had a good operation going on the Tully River.” Danny, who was whip-lean despite the mountains of food he consumed, pointed to the lasagne left on his plate. “Better than Mum’s.”

“Different recipe.”

He grinned. Even at twenty-four, he was still very boyish, though very attractive with his sun-bleached streaky hair and bright brown eyes which were dancing at her with a teasing twinkle. “Did you cook it for Alex King?”

Gina froze. Any connection now to Alex King was anathema to her, and everything within her recoiled from having to answer questions about him.

“Oh, come on. Spill the beans,” Danny coaxed. “Marco said he was here last night and read him a bedtime story.”

“He called by,” she returned stiffly. Impossible to deny his presence with Marco listening. “I’d left something at the castle,” she added in explanation...
like Alex King in her bed there,
her mind mocked. “You know Marco grabs anyone he can to read him a story. Alex was kind enough to oblige.”

“Alex now, is it?” Danny commented stirringly.

She grimaced at him. “Get off it, Danny. He’s engaged to Michelle Banks.”

He shrugged. “Not married to her, though. There’s many a fall twixt the cup and the lip.”

“Not likely in this direction. Now if you don’t mind...”

“Okay, okay! So what happened with Peter Owen?”

“I’m doing a gig with him at the Coral Reef Lounge tomorrow night.”

He whistled appreciatively. “Fast work! And classy venue!”

“Yes. Top of the line. Which means I have a lot to prepare tonight.”

“I’m off!” He stood and ruffled Marco’s curls in passing. “Be good for your mum, chum.” He gave her a brotherly smooch. “Knock ‘em dead tomorrow night. Got my own gig with the cane toad races so can’t be there cheering you on, but I’ll be thinking of you.”

“Thanks, Danny. For today, too.”

“No worries. Marco and I are buddies.” He left on that cheerful note, the Alex King visit brushed aside and dropped as inconsequential, much to Gina’s relief. She needed to close the door on all her treacherous feelings for Alex and pretend the whole shameful affair had never happened.

Which was much easier decided than done.

Nevertheless, with determined purpose, Gina kept herself very busy for the next couple of hours, making sure her clothes and Marco’s were ready for tomorrow, bathing her son and putting him to bed, making calls to her aunt and her mother, both of whom were atwitter at the news of Peter Owen’s offer.

Her aunt insisted Marco stay with her tomorrow night since her mother was taking him on Saturday. Gina felt a stab of guilt at her very young son being shuttled around the family while she pursued her own course, but how could he come to any harm amongst people who loved him? She would always be the main constant.

Gina was still salving her conscience on that point when the telephone rang, no doubt an afterthought or extra piece of advice from her mother. Wearily she picked up the receiver, girding herself up to once more sound reasonably excited about her forthcoming debut on a stage that had nothing to do with eisteddfod concerts or weddings. Never mind the dark misery dragging on her heart. She had a bright step ahead of her.

“Hi! What did you forget?” she rattled out.

“Gina...”

Her leaden heart came to a dead halt.

Alex King’s voice!

She closed her eyes, trying to shut out a thousand haunting images of him.

“I’ve been thinking of you all day,” he went on.

Likewise!
her mind snapped. Though not on the same scale of pleasure as his tone told her his thoughts had been. Her heart revived and started catapulting around her chest, gaining painful strength as anger took over from shock.

“I don’t want to wait until Sunday,” he purred. “I was wondering if you were free tomorrow night.”

Still hot for her and wanting a system overload before going back to Michelle! Gina gritted her teeth against the bile that rose at that thought.

“No, I’m not free, Alex,” she bit out. “I have an
engagement...
singing with Peter Owen.”

Proving there was life after him!

A pause, a sigh. “So you liked the deal he offered you.”

“Well, let me put it this way. I know where I am with Peter. I didn’t with you, Alex.”

Her hard tone gave him more pause for thought. A tense puzzlement answered her. “What do you mean, Gina?”

“I had a visit from your fiancée today,” she stated with pointed emphasis.

“I told you I’m no longer engaged to Michelle,” he shot back.

“She was wearing your ring, Alex.”

He cursed under his breath. “I let her keep it. Since I was ending the relationship it seemed...ungentlemanly... to demand its return.”

Ungentlemanly ?

A rocket of rage exploded in Gina’s head.

“Was it gentlemanly to discuss your attack of lust for me with her? To plot a course of getting me out of your system with your fiancée’s permission? Just a bit of time out to slake a temporary passion?”

“She said that to you?”

His voice rose in shock—shock at having his duplicity revealed, no doubt. Gina bored in, fury overflowing. “Yes, she explained about her own
lustful
fancy for another man on Saturday night, and how such urges meant nothing in the big picture. A bit on the side for her...a bit on the side for you...”

“The bitch!” he thundered, a mountain of outrage in his voice rolling over her.

It was just noise, Gina told herself. Nothing but distracting noise.

“Actually, she wasn’t bitchy at all,” she said with commendable calm. “It was really quite kind of her to let me know how matters really stood, stopping me from getting foolish ideas that might embarrass everyone. A pity you hadn’t been more honest, Alex.”

“Honest! Michelle wouldn’t know honesty if she tripped over it.”

“What a splendid marriage the two of you will have, bed-hopping wherever the fancy takes you...”

“You think I want that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about how you lead your life or what you want from it. If you were excusing what you did with me on the basis of mutual desire, let me state here and now I am no longer
hot
for you, and I am not
free
for you, not tomorrow night nor any other night.”

“Gina, she was lying, manipulating...”

“For what purpose, Alex?” Ice dripping off her tongue.

“God knows!” Much heat from him. “Possibly malicious spite because I preferred you to her.”

“For a novel bit of sex?”

“No! In every way!” he asserted even more heatedly.

“Like you can’t wait to get in my bed again. That’s why you’re calling me, isn’t it?” she bitterly accused.

He hesitated, possibly a bit of honesty catching up with him, Gina thought savagely.

“And you meant to keep calling until the passion burnt out,” she mocked.

A swift intake of breath—quick, tense speech. “I appreciate—believe me—how clever and convincing Michelle can be when she’s serving her own interests. For a long time she played a very appealing role for me, with only the occasional slip of the mask—a few discomforting moments that I overlooked because she dazzled on other fronts. But that’s over, Gina. She might think she can draw me back to her if she gets rid of you, but she can’t. She used the ring to cover her lies with a semblance of truth.”

“A few hard truths, wouldn’t you say, Alex?” she challenged, not prepared to shift from the ground she’d so painfully reached.

“Michelle’s truths are not mine,” he claimed with vehement force.

“Well, why don’t you go and sort them out with her? I don’t care for the role of meat in the middle, thank you very much.”

“I’m sorry you were cast in that role, Gina, but it wasn’t by me. And I will most certainly sort it out with Michelle,” he stated grimly.

“I wish we’d never met. I’ve never been made to feel like...like a disposable person before.”

“Don’t say that. It’s not true.”

“The truth is...you came onto me too fast for me to believe anything else. A widow from the backblocks of Cairns...and Alex King—
the prize.
That’s what Michelle called you and she’s right. What else could a man in your position want from me except...”

“A woman with heart, Gina,” he cut in. “Something Michelle never was.”

“Then find someone who fits all your requirements if you’re not happy with her. Goodbye, Alex.”

“Wait!”

She’d already moved the telephone receiver away from her ear. Even so, his command came over the line loud and clear, making her hesitate for a moment. The instinctive tug towards him had a power that almost swamped common sense, but today’s pain erected the barrier that had to be maintained. A brittle but determined sense of self-worth forced the receiver down— disconnection firm and absolute!

Before going to bed she took a sleeping tablet, telling herself she needed a good deep rest if she was to perform well tomorrow night. It didn’t work as quickly as she hoped it would. For a long time she lay in the darkness, the memory of sharing this bed with Alex King last night too vivid to block out.

There was no denying she’d wanted him. He wasn’t entirely to blame for what had happened between them. She had invited him here, madly bent on keeping him in her life despite the perspective Michelle had hammered home today.

False images...

The tormenting little phrase applied to so much.

The diamond engagement ring could be one of them. Michelle might very well have lied, aiming to get rid of any threat to achieving her own ambition. Gina wanted to believe Alex had at least been truthful on that score, though she felt he had come to her on some kind of swinging rebound, triggered by Michelle’s desire to dally with someone else.

It could be the contrast that had drawn him—a woman with heart—but other things were just as important to the success of a relationship. Gina knew she wasn’t his social equal. And as kind as he’d been to Marco, her son wasn’t his. The Kings were like a dynasty. When it came to marriage, they would want their own children.

It had been utter madness to dream of something different.

She had to fill her mind with something else—the songs to be sung tomorrow night. The words were all about love... memories, hopes, yearnings, loss. Easy for her to feel them, she thought with bleak irony. Did a professional singer sell her soul? No, music was simply a way of expressing it.
The music of the night...