The Arranged Marriage (7 page)

“You mean your singing engagements,” he prompted when her silence went on unbroken by further explanation.

“I’m also working part-time in my aunt’s florist shop,” she answered slowly, realising the job formed a pleasant stop-gap rather than a step to some reason for being. “I can take Marco there with me,” she added, acknowledging what an advantage such a situation was for a single parent who didn’t want to surrender the care of her precious child to anyone else, not on any regular basis.

“Who’s minding him tonight?”

It burst upon her that she’d completely forgotten what she’d been about to do before he’d taken control of everything. “Rosita. Your grandmother’s housekeeper.” The reply tripped out as she rose to her feet, agitated by the sense of having selfishly indulged what was beginning to feel like a stupid flight of fantasy, instead of sticking to the reality of a life with her son. “I should go and check on him.”

“He’s here? At the castle?”

Alex swung on her, his surprise and the sharpness of his tone halting any further movement. Her heart skittered again, setting her pulse leaping haphazardly as the full force of his personality was aimed directly at her. Her mind skittered, too. Did he find something wrong with this arrangement? Wasn’t she good enough to be his grandmother’s guest?

Instinctively her chin tilted, defying any negative opinion he might hold. “Mrs. King kindly invited us to stay overnight to save disturbing Marco’s sleep with travelling.”

“So you’ll be sleeping here, too.”

Tension poured from him, swirling around her like a tightening net, holding her captive. “I’ve been given the nanny’s room in the nursery quarters,” she said, then wished she hadn’t told him that. Although the arrangement was most suitable for her and Marco’s needs, it sounded as though she didn’t rate a proper guest room.

This status thing was really bothering her. “Why are you asking me all these questions?” she burst out, her inner anguish demanding some satisfaction. “Why don’t you say what’s really on your mind?” Her hands jerked out in an emphatic gesture of appeal. “This isn’t fair!”

“I know it’s not!” he retorted in a darkly savage tone. “I wanted you to help me out of my dilemma but there is no help. I have to make the choice myself.”

It fired all the resentments she’d been silently nursing. “Well, how very lucky you are to have a choice. Seems to me I didn’t get one. But that’s okay. I can walk away.”

It was like dragging her body out of a magnetic field to take a step backwards, to force her legs to turn aside from his powerful presence, to will herself into some dignified retreat.

“No!”

He caught her wrist and with a strength that had her stumbling off balance, spun her back towards him. In almost a blur of motion he loomed much closer, releasing his grip to take a far more comprehensive hold, his arms wrapping around her so fast, her hands slammed against his chest in an instinctive warding off action.

“Don’t play with me!” she cried, her gaze lifting to his in a torment of protest at his arbitrary use of her.

A dark blue fire blazed down at her. “Does this feel like play?” he demanded harshly. “Did it feel like play on the dance floor?”

Her resistance instantly weakened. There was no stopping his intensity of feeling from flooding through her, re-igniting all the powerful sensations of wanting him, a very immediate primitive wanting that craved action. It wasn’t enough to be held in this close contact. It was nothing but a tease, a torment, a prolonging of conflict that begged at least some resolution.

One of his arms clamped her more tightly to him as he lifted the other to touch her face, light fingertips sweeping her hair from her forehead, trailing down to her cheek, feathering the line of her lips, flowing over her chin, her neck, under the long flow of her hair, stroking her nape. The tingling skin-to-skin contact was so mesmerising, Gina couldn’t think. The challenge she might have made melted from her mind. Feeling filled it...and the raging desire for more.

His chest heaved against her breasts as he dragged air into his lungs. “I have to do this,” he murmured, the low words carrying a deep throb of need that was echoed in the thundering of her heart.

The kiss came hard and fast—an explosion of pent-up passion from both of them, a stampede of tasting, tangling, an urgent assault on any inhibition, a fierce giving and taking that flowed into an all-consuming sense of merging.

Gina was barely aware that her hands had flown up around his neck and were clutching his head to hers. Her body was arched against his, exulting in the imprint of his hard masculinity, straining to indulge the rampant desire to feel all of him. Everything within her yearned to be immersed in total intimacy with this man.

It was as though she had never known what could be... and here it was... the promise of how it would be when the chemistry was perfect, and the recognition of it was singing through her entire body, pulsing from her heart, jamming her brain with a host of needy signals.

Even when he pulled out of the kiss, the promise was still there, gathering a momentum of its own. His cheek rubbed against her hair as he regathered breath, the pressure of his embrace almost crushing as though he couldn’t bear to release any other part of her.

“Believe me...this is not play, Gina,” he rasped. “But it has to stop now because...you’re right. It isn’t fair.”

The feverish burst of words floated past her consciousness, tapping on the door of a mind that was too full of more compelling messages to admit them. It was not until he stiffened away from her and the squaring of his shoulders caused her hands to slide from his neck, that the sense of what he’d said began to sink in.

Stop?

Not fair?

He dropped his hold on her, his arms falling to his side as he took a step back, watching her with keen concern as she swayed on her feet. With her hands so abruptly dislodged from his shoulders, all physical support removed, still giddy with sensations that had been given no time to abate, Gina instinctively wrapped her arms around her midriff to hold herself steady. A shivering started, cold attacking heat, the sense of loss growing sharper and sharper.

She stared at him in paralysed disbelief, not understanding how he could
stop
this. Or why he would want to. It felt as though everything inside her was churning around in frantic futile circles, finding only emptiness because the promise of fulfilment had been broken and there were only jagged edges left of it.

She didn’t know what he saw in her eyes—the open wound of rejection? A devastated heart? A truth he didn’t want to face?

His brows dipped into a pained frown. His mouth moved into a vexed grimace. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Sorry...

It was unbearable.

A fierce surge of pride gave her the strength to turn and walk away, blindly at first, the need to flout his belittling apology driving her legs to put a decisive distance between them. The entrance to the castle was straight ahead of her and her focus gradually zeroed in on it.

Marco slid into her frayed mind.

Marco was real.

Her little son loved her unconditionally.

There was a big difference—
huge
—between love and sexual lust.

Best to be with Marco.

Michelle
felt a rush of elation as Peter Owen tapped the shoulder of her dance partner. “My turn, dear boy,” he drawled, one eyebrow wickedly cocked. “I claim old friendship.”

She couldn’t help laughing. More
intimate
friendship than old. “It’s okay, Chris,” she assured the guy she’d snapped up. “Thanks for dancing with me.”

He grinned back at her. “A pleasure. Any time.”

Which was what Alex should be telling her instead of choosing to smooch around the dance floor with
his singer.
Still, darling Peter could make up for that slight. She gave him a simmering look of seductive possibilities as he moved in on her, his long, supple body instantly capturing and projecting the beat of the music. He was definitely the sexiest dancer she’d ever known—both in bed and out of it.

“Deserted by your precious fiance, sweetie?” he mocked.

“Not quite a duet with your duet singer?” she retorted.

“A promising prospect. But I suspect...more the marrying kind. Want to watch that, darling. Seemed to me Alex was quite hot for her.”

“I’m holding the cards, Peter.”

He sighed, his eyes running over her salaciously. “Pity it’s the wrong hand. You know I appreciate you more than he does. Do you fancy a quickie in the bushes?”

She laughed. “Too much of a risk.”

His eyes twinkled a tempting challenge. “Ah, but the delicious spice of danger...”

“Not worth it, Peter,” she said, though her eyes flirted with the promised pleasure of it.

He performed a provocative bump and grind to push the idea further. “He’s taken the delectable Gina outside with him. Tit for tat?”

“I doubt they’ve gone as far as the bushes.”

He shoulder-shimmied around her, suggestively murmuring, “Probably headed for a bedroom.”

“Alex is far too straitlaced for that.”

“How boring for you! Nevertheless, he probably is heading for a bedroom. Gina wanted to check on her son, Marco. Apparently Isabella invited them to stay at the castle overnight.”

“Old witch!” Anger surged. “She’s trying to make trouble between me and Alex.”

Peter exulted in stirring the pot. “No doubt he’ll be leaning over the little boy’s cot, all choked up by the sweet innocence of a sleeping babe, thinking about how it’ll be with his first child...”

“Shut up, Peter!”

He grinned—the devil incarnate. “While we trip the light fantastic, darling.”

Grabbing her hand, he led her into an intricate sequence of steps that took them right down the dance floor. He was so light and clever on his feet, it was exhilarating matching him, and Michelle couldn’t help thinking how much she missed having this kind of fun. Of course, with Peter, nothing could be taken seriously, but that was his charm. Sheer fun with nothing else attached to it. Free fun.

They stopped at the stage end of the ballroom. Still holding her hand, Peter drew her towards a side exit, whispering in her ear, “Let’s snatch a bit of memory lane before the King family noose is around your lovely neck.”

It wasn’t wise to go with him.

But she did.

Alex knew he should return to the ballroom, if only for the sake of appearances. Michelle would have her nose out of joint at his prolonged absence. He didn’t want any sly gossip arising from his exit with Gina. It certainly wasn’t fair to have her reputation tainted in any way.

Yet he couldn’t bring himself to rejoin the party, couldn’t bear the thought of being forced into small talk. It would be easy enough to explain away his actions, but he didn’t want to. He was deeply uncomfortable with the thought of skating over what he’d done with Gina. What he’d felt with her...

The restraint he’d imposed upon himself was still a physical pain. Every muscle in his body seemed to be aching, wracked with a tension that hadn’t been released. Best choice was to walk it off, he decided. He needed time alone to think anyway.

* * *

“You can’t be wearing anything under that dress,” Peter remarked slyly, dropping her hand to hang his arm around her waist and feel the unbroken line of fabric curving over her hipline with his usual sensual expertise.

“Stop it,” Michelle chided, though she did nothing to halt the wandering hand from sliding down under her buttocks to check the lack of underwear.

It was typical of Peter’s outrageous little liberties with women and she secretly enjoyed the sexual kick of feeding his lust for her. Besides, there was no one else in this courtyard. Most people who wanted to smoke or get some fresh air chose to go out to the loggia on the other side of the ballroom.

“Absolutely nothing,” Peter declared after his cursory examination. “Which means you’re all naked and ready for me.”

“Hardly naked.”

“Where it counts, sweetie. Where it counts.” He led her around a hedge of thickly leafed and flowered hibiscus trees to a garden bench behind it. “Now how spicy is this? You can lean against the back of the bench. The hedge hides us to above our waists. You can watch over my shoulder for anyone coming out of the ballroom while we have a lovely little...”

“You really are incorrigible, Peter.” But it was a titillating scenario.

“Mmm...and weddings make me so randy.”

“I don’t need you for sex. Alex is very good at it,” she protested, though she stopped where he had suggested, leaning against the back rest of the wooden bench, her arms casually spread to rest her hands along the top plank. The cooler air—or the excitement of the game—had hardened her nipples and she was very aware of their obvious thrust.

So was Peter who lightly fanned them with his palms as he seductively teased, “Nothing like a bit of stolen infidelity, is there?” He dropped his hands and started gathering up her skirt. “I bet you’re all hot and wet for me.”

“I don’t think I should do this.”

“Then you just stand there and chat to me. I’d like that. Quite a challenge operating on two levels.” He grinned wickedly as he slid his hand between her bare thighs. “Don’t know why you want to get saddled with Alex King. He’s a terribly worthy person.”

Michelle had to catch her breath before she could speak. “That’s the problem with you, Peter. You’re terribly unworthy. Can’t count on you for any backing if I need it.”

“Are we talking money here?” he lilted over the telltale unzipping of his fly.

“Alex has solid wealth. And his family has the kind of prestigious status that adds more class to my standing as a designer. They’re assets you can’t give me, darling.”

“But I
can
give you this...”

Alex didn’t know how he made it through the rest of the wedding reception. It was a torturous length of time before the bride and groom finally took their leave. Maintaining a semblance of geniality in the face of Michelle’s high spirits had stretched his self-discipline to the absolute limit. The moment the honeymoon car drove off, he forcefully led his very soon-to-be ex-fiancée towards his own car.

“The party isn’t over,” she protested.

“We’re going,” he stated curtly.

“What is the matter with you, Alex?” she cried in exasperation. “You haven’t been any fun all evening. Are you sick or something?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, you could have told me.”

“I’m telling you now.”

She huffed her annoyance at this unsatisfactory end to her
good time.
Alex contained his own inner seething until they were both seated in his Jaguar SL—evidence of his
solid wealth
—and on the road, heading for Michelle’s apartment. It wasn’t far, just down the road from the marina where her Port Douglas boutique was situated. Rather than be distracted from driving, he did the short trip in silence.

“Since you’re feeling sick, I take it you won’t be staying with me tonight,” Michelle sniped, probably regretting that she hadn’t set something up with Peter Owen.

“No, I won’t. Nor any other night,” he bit out, bringing the car to a halt outside her apartment building.

It drew a sharp look from her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m breaking our engagement. As of now.” He switched off the engine and turned his head to look at her with very clear cold eyes. “Our marriage is off, Michelle. We’re not really suited to each other.”

“And what made you suddenly decide that?” she flared back, incensed by his flat announcement.

“Several things. But I’d have to say your intimate encounter with Peter Owen tonight capped the decision. And hearing how you viewed my assets as a husband.”

Her mouth gaped momentarily. Her recovery was fast, though she spoke in a fluster. “That was just silly chat, Alex. Peter is so superficial, it’s pointless talking about feelings.” Her hand flew across to squeeze his thigh. “You know I love you.”

He picked up the all too experienced hand and dropped it back in her lap. “I was taking a walk around the castle. Voices carry on the still night air, Michelle. So do other sounds. I didn’t want to create a scene so I left you to it and walked back the way I’d come.”

Her chin tilted in defiance as she saw that denial was futile. “Peter and I were lovers before I met you, Alex. There’s been nothing between us since and there’ll be nothing more. It was just a...”

“Reminder of old times? A fond goodbye?” he shot at her cuttingly.

“It was meaningless,” she lashed back.

“Like any bit of infidelity stolen here and there whenever the urge takes you.” He shook his head. “That’s not the kind of marriage I have in mind, Michelle. Better we go our separate ways.”

“Why? So you can hit on Gina Terlizzi without having a guilty conscience?” she jeered.

It wasn’t far off the mark and his grim silence lent Michelle the ammunition to fire again.

“Don’t be stupid, Alex. Have her if you want to. Get it out of the way.”

“And that would neatly excuse your peccadillo, wouldn’t it?” he flung back at her, hating her casual dismissal of any honour and integrity.

“Oh, for God’s sake! It’s like having a brief binge on chocolate. You do it because you’re tempted. Once the taste is satisfied, you go off it. You know what diet suits you best and that’s what you keep to in the long run. It’s all a matter of perspective.”

“Thank you for giving me that point of view. It just so happens I don’t care to share it,” he returned icily, reining in his anger. She was displaying an attitude that absolved him from any concern about her feelings, making it easier for him to walk away.

“At least I’m honest,” she went on jabbing at him. “What I did with Peter is over and done with. You’re still sizzling for the singer, aren’t you? Nothing like frustration to screw up your head, not to mention other parts of your anatomy. I bet that was what you were trying to walk off. And now you’re angry because I did what you wanted to.”

Her eyes gloated with a derisive certainty in her assumption.

She was wrong.

He would not have used Gina Terlizzi like that.

Never.

He unclipped his seat belt, alighted from the car, strode around the bonnet and opened the passenger door.

“I’m not getting out until we talk this through,” she declared, furious at his action.

“We’re finished. I have nothing more to say to you, Michelle,” he clipped out, giving her no room to manoeuvre a different situation between them.

She stared up at him in hard-eyed challenge.

No way was he about to budge.

With a doleful sigh she unclipped her seat belt and slithered her way upright beside him, probably trying a reminder of how sexy she could be, given some incentive.

“You’ll think better of this, Alex,” she purred huskily. “I’m not going to give you your ring back.”

“Keep it,” he replied carelessly. “Consider it the spoils from the game. But don’t think for one minute the game isn’t over. It is.” He closed the car door to punctuate the point.

“Pride is a poor bedfellow, Alex.”

“I can live with it more easily than I can with a string of Peter Owens.” He gestured to the apartment building. “Do you want me to see you to your front door?”

She gave him a mocking little smile. “No. I think I’ll see you off instead. Who knows? You might change your mind halfway down the road.”

It was her choice to reject the courtesy. Alex didn’t argue with it. He nodded a cold acknowledgement, said “Goodbye,” and returned to the driver’s seat, closing Michelle Banks out of his life.

Halfway down the road, he didn’t even glance back. He wasn’t consciously driving towards Gina Terlizzi. She just happened to be in the castle tonight. He was simply going home.