The Marriage Agenda (11 page)

She thought about making a copy, but she didn’t see anything in Knox’s study resembling a copier. Her all-in-one machine was still at her apartment, but she had her cell phone. She took a quick picture of the note for future reference, then tucked the paper back in the stack. Carefully, she reassembled the file and returned it to the drawer.

She had a hunch she was on to something, and if she wanted to blow the lid off a story Pactron would be a great vehicle for cementing her career. Her spidey senses were going haywire, but first thing’s first.

She had to get through her wedding reception.

Chapter Fourteen

Even through the limousine’s tinted windows, the Wyndham Club glowed white. Designed on the outside to mimic a sprawling Southern mansion, it boasted a grand ballroom, a five-star dining experience, spa facilities, and three full stories of covered verandas overlooking an award-winning, eighteen-hole golf course…or at least that’s what the website said.

Until the night of her reception, Chloe had never been allowed past the gates.

The limo drew to a stop outside the front doors. Chloe halfway expected a red carpet and throngs of people, but the privately owned club kept the photographers away. That, and most of the attendees were probably as loaded as Knox, albeit sans the fame and notoriety that came along with the Hamilton name. They likely weren’t prone to gawking.

As Knox predicted, his mother had managed to throw together an event suitable for royalty, and in record time—probably not hard when every vendor in town had surely fallen over themselves for the chance to impress Katherine Hamilton and her blue-blooded friends. The whole thing still felt surreal to Chloe. While she and Knox had been together months in their previous relationship, to say it was low-key would be an understatement. He didn’t exactly loathe the press—wooing the press was in the job description—but he had been quite open with her about his wish for privacy. She’d respected that. Even preferred the casual version of Knox, not that he wasn’t something to look at now in his tux. And his wedding ring. She still couldn’t believe he’d married
her
. The man could quite literally have his choice of gorgeous socialites who could handle their stilettos, and he’d chosen the plainest one of them all.

She, who hadn’t a clue how to play the expected part. She hadn’t grown up in his realm and certainly hadn’t known wealth. She was out of her league, and the stakes were unbelievably high. Hanging out in the house all week was one thing…performing in front of people was another.

She was scared to death she’d let him down.

Knox put a hand on her leg. “You’ll be fine,” he said as if he’d read her mind. More likely, the worry played all over her face, which was just something
else
to worry about.

“One can hope,” she said. Of course he wasn’t worried.
He
probably hadn’t spent an hour trying to memorize the purpose of four glasses at a single place setting.

He touched her chin, drawing her to look at him. “One can hope for absolutely nothing more, Mrs. Hamilton. You are absolutely beautiful.”

She averted her eyes from the sincerity raking his achingly handsome face.

“I have something for you.” He released her, but the feeling lingered.

Her fingers drifted to her throat, where a gorgeous diamond-pendant necklace hung, which—along with matching earrings—had arrived that afternoon via special courier in a box from Tiffany & Co. They paired beautifully with her simple white gown, which was similar to the one she’d worn for their wedding, and together with her wedding rings made for a jaw-dropping ensemble. As it was, she was scarcely able to walk under the weight of the diamonds.

“What else could you possibly have for me?”

He grinned and reached down to the floor of the limo. When he straightened, he held a potted plant.

“In what universe is it a good idea for you to remind me of this right now?” She was still irked over having lost her title.

Knox offered a soft smile. “I believe flowers are a rather gentlemanly gesture.”

“Flowers, yes. Houseplant number thirteen… Oh, God. Thirteen. Are you kidding me? Tonight of all nights—”

He laughed. “Relax. Besides, I happen to think thirteen is a great number.”

Easy for him to say. He hadn’t just been hexed.

Despite the fact they were sitting directly in front of the brilliantly lit venue, Knox appeared in no hurry to leave the car. “Do you know why I married you?”

“Because I said yes?” She gave a short, humorless laugh and brushed at the front of her dress, picking at spots she didn’t actually see. What had she been thinking, getting herself into this?

He didn’t return the laugh. Instead, he traced her cheek with a fingertip. “That helped, yes. But before that, what I…what attracted me to you was how real you are.”

“Was I preceded by a line of blow-up dolls?”

“I’m serious,” he said. But he smiled anyway. “You’re spectacular. They won’t know what hit them.”

Her breath hitched, and she got another whiff of that deep, citrusy scent of his, which she adored. It was the last conscious thought she had before his lips touched hers. In that brief instant, she’d expected something formal—something for show, just in case anyone was watching—but there was no formality to be found in the softness of his kiss. One minute he was sitting next to her with his hand on her thigh, and the next he’d cupped her face with both hands and his mouth had met hers with a tenderness that turned her inside out. His tongue tangled with hers, tentatively at first, but the more she moved against him, the more fiercely he claimed her.

The kiss might have lasted seconds or hours—she’d been that lost to him. And when it ended, he didn’t just break free. He caught her lip between his own and smiled, the sensual tenderness enough to break her. The Wyndham Club ceased to exist, and she saw only him. For a moment they sat frozen, and when he brushed her mouth the second time, her lips were already parted. If only he would dive in and put his hands everywhere and prove himself to be a brute, she could pull away and fuss about her hair and her dress and what people would say, but that wasn’t Knox. His touch was so light she barely felt it, yet it consumed her.

The kiss that followed was impossibly leisurely and deep. It was as if time stilled and left them suspended in that moment of twinkling lights, she and Knox immersed in the rich scent of leather and the plush seats, Chloe lost to feelings she had to convince herself didn’t exist.

But no such convincing would happen in that moment. Not when the fragile hunger of that kiss overwhelmed her. Not when she couldn’t breathe from her want of him and not when he swept her mouth with the kind of deep-seated desire that ought to be illegal from any man who wasn’t already buried between her thighs.

Passion flared hotly and burned slow, a raging ember, if such a thing could exist. All she knew was the taste of him and the furious tempo of her heart. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew they needed to be somewhere else, but all she wanted was to see him out of that tux, naked and sweaty and pounding mercilessly into her.

She slid her arms under his jacket at the same time he reached for the small of her back and pulled her close, her dress inching to mid-thigh. His other hand flirted with the hem, then slid to her soaked center. The heavy scent of her arousal permeated the car.

“Dammit, Chloe.”

“What?” She practically panted the word. She might have been embarrassed if not for the hitch in his breath. The last time she’d seen that look on his face, they’d been so tangled up she couldn’t tell whose limbs were whose, and in that moment she’d have given almost anything to go back there, lost in a conflagration of all-consuming passion.

“I’m sorry. This is not the time or the place,” he said. But he didn’t let go.

Chloe sucked in a shaky breath. She should push him away, straighten her dress, and learn to live without him, but it was a hard sell with the taste of him still on her lips. It would be so easy—and so, so incredible—to let him follow through on that desire. Her dress was already bunched around her thighs. The only thing between them was his zipper, and she’d take it down with her teeth if it meant he’d drive into her until she couldn’t breathe. He was hard, the evidence pressed deliberately against her thigh, and she couldn’t remember when she’d been so lit with desire. Maybe it was that she could never really have him, or maybe it was knowing there was a stable full of blue bloods anticipating their arrival, but it didn’t matter.

She wanted him desperately.

All the more reason to save herself. “I guess we should go in.”

He dropped his head to her shoulder. “I guess we should.”

She leaned back against the seat, a little surprised to discover the windows were fogged up. That actually happened?

“I want you to remember.” He tugged at his jacket to straighten it. “I chose you, Chloe. Not because I didn’t have a choice, but because you were the only woman I wanted.”

Yep, lucky her. Why did he have to keep doing this? Though she hadn’t forgotten his be-kind-to-thy-wife speech, if she didn’t put some kind of distance between them she would drown in all those swarming emotions she could never own. Not with him. She swallowed. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like you like me or something. I believe we banned all emotional connections.”

He looked at her for an awfully long time before he spoke—long enough that she started hoping for some great confession.
I do love you. I just haven’t been able to admit it.

It didn’t come.

She had grossly underestimated her ability to maintain an emotional distance. On paper, it made sense that she should be able to keep her heart reeled in when she knew their relationship was just a business arrangement, but she could not look at him without believing there was more. Walking away might be a little harder than she expected.

But did it matter? He didn’t want more. It didn’t matter if
more
existed or not.

He hadn’t replied, and she wasn’t sure she wanted him to. To hear him deny anything between them while the air still sizzled from the electricity they created would have been painful.

Suddenly desperate to be free from him, she reached for the door. He put a hand on her arm and stopped her. “Let me.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot it was the chauffeur’s job.”

“Not tonight. Wait for me. I want to do it.”

He smiled gently and exited the car on his side, leaving her staring at the potted tree on the floor. It seemed to echo what he’d said about her, for there was no way in hell she could imagine him bringing a freaking bonsai bush to a tall blonde with enormous implants and a bank account to match. Her mouth twisted. The nameless bitch could probably walk in heels, too. Not a wobble.

The door beside her opened, and even though she’d just had her tongue buried in Knox’s mouth, the sight of him standing there took her breath. He held his hand out for her, so she took it, rising as gracefully as a recently mauled woman could. He stood between her and the Wyndham Club while she adjusted her dress, smiling when she was stuck palming her own boobs to get her dress to lay right.

“Your fault,” she said.

“Guilty.” He took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, and smiled as he turned and led her inside.

Her breath caught. The stunning ballroom was overwhelmingly white, with high archways, sweeping floor-to-ceiling windows, and columns that looked as if they belonged in richly Southern antebellum-style architecture. The ornate décor—some of it astutely presidential in style—featured gilded accent pieces that shone brightly in the light of a thousand candles. The tables—each one drenched in layers and layers of white linens and topped with sparkling table service—had been set up around the dance floor.

A nervous flutter hit her right in the stomach. She wasn’t much of a ballroom dancer. What she and Knox had done in the past was more of a vertical-foreplay kind of thing—moves she didn’t think would be appreciated by that particular crowd. Unlike at the charity dinner where they’d been a footnote, tonight, all eyes would be on them.

Fortunately or otherwise, she didn’t have time to be nervous, for everyone seemed to descend on them at once. She caught sight of her parents and Lila together near one side of the room but quickly lost them as a crush of people pushed toward Knox. And her, in theory at least, but definitely Knox. For a moment, she was so completely overwhelmed she wanted to disappear through the floor, but then Knox started making introductions. Three United States senators. Cabinet members. The chief executive officers of two separate multi-million-dollar corporations. A billionaire friend of Knox’s from Yale. Knox’s campaign manager, Toby. And Katherine, of course, but no Rex.

Interesting, she realized, that not one person had asked about him.

Chloe waited until she and Knox were mostly alone before asking about the senator.

“He hadn’t planned to attend,” Knox said, looking over her shoulder as he spoke. “He said he didn’t want to shift the attention away from us, but I think my mom told him the snub would draw more attention than the appearance. He’s supposed to stop by.”

She wasn’t sure how thrilled she was about that. Rex was a powerful man, and based on his reputation alone, Chloe wasn’t a fan. He’d managed to turn his son against relationships—a fact that made her want to go after him with a salad fork—and his wife, Chloe noticed, had never even mentioned his name in her presence.

Forty-five minutes into the schmoozing, she had yet to speak to her parents or her best friend. She had, however, seen enough twenty-something cleavage to last a lifetime. A few were daughters of the more distinguished guests, while a shocking percentage appeared to be there on the arms of much older men. “I don’t know how you deal with this,” she muttered under her breath.

“Reprieve is on its way. Those are your parents with my mom, right? Let’s go say hello before we get swamped again.”

She gave him a grateful smile as he took her hand and led the way. As best she could tell, her parents were somewhere between furious and
really
furious over her marriage, but she’d never know to look at them. They, along with Lila, stood in conversation with Katherine, and Chloe found herself exceedingly grateful Katherine would spend time with arguably the least of the many, many important guests. Once they’d passed the last potential obstacle—an older gentleman who clapped Knox on the back as they passed—Chloe went straight for her mom and gave her a long hug, then shared the same with her dad. “I would like for you to meet Knox Hamilton. Knox, these are my parents, Ava and Patrick Lochlan.” It was a little odd to introduce her parents to her husband—and doing so certainly didn’t bode well for their purported love story—so she did it quietly.