Claiming My Bride Of Convenience. Кейт Хьюит
eyes flashed. ‘Don’t you mean what the hell am I doing here?’
‘I was surprised.’
I wasn’t normally in the habit of justifying myself, and I didn’t know what it was about her that caught me on the raw, made me defensive. That had to stop.
‘Annoyed, you mean? Or perhaps furious?’ One eyebrow arched as her golden-brown eyes glittered like bits of topaz. She was unremarkable, I told myself as I scanned her in cold assessment. Brown hair and eyes, a slight, unprepossessing figure. Completely forgettable.
So why did I keep staring at her?
‘We had an arrangement,’ I stated, yet again. She seemed to need the reminder.
‘Which suited you—’
‘And you—to the tune of nearly two million euros.’ I was not going to feel guilty. ‘You knew the score all along. You said you were happy with it.’
Her lower lip—a surprisingly lush and rosy-red lip—jutted out, and she folded her arms across her slight bosom, which for some reason I was having the most exasperating trouble looking away from, considering how unimpressive it was. B cup at best, and yet…
‘Well, now I want to change it,’ she said.
I let out a short, sharp laugh. ‘I don’t negotiate.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ she challenged. ‘It’s hardly a binding contract.’
I stared at her, shocked. Where was all this brazen confidence coming from? And what could she possibly want from me?
‘Not binding, no,’ I agreed silkily, ‘but you know the terms. If you wish the marriage to be annulled without my agreement, then you’ll have to hand back every single euro you’ve received from me over the last three years.’
Which amounted to nearly two million—one million to start, and then two hundred and fifty thousand for every year she stayed married to me, until my grandfather died. Then we wouldn’t have to have anything more to do with each other—something I had thought suited us both.
But of course Daisy knew the rules as well as I did. I’d outlined them all very clearly when I’d proposed to her after she’d been fired from a rundown dive of a diner in a less than salubrious neighbourhood in Manhattan and she’d accepted. With alacrity.
So what had changed?
I folded my arms and eyed her in consideration. She was sitting as prim as you please in a vamp’s red dress, looking entirely incongruous and making me feel as if I didn’t know her at all—which, of course, I didn’t. I didn’t need or want to know her. But I needed to know what she wanted.
‘What is this really about, Daisy?’
For a second that confidence faltered. Her lips trembled and her gaze slid away. ‘What do you think it’s about?’
‘Why are you here? What is it you want? Because I really don’t think you want to repay the two million euros I’ve already given you.’
‘One million, seven hundred and fifty thousand,’ she flashed back, recovering her spirit, assembling it like armour. ‘And, according to our agreement, we were to be married for a maximum of two years. It’s now been three.’
‘And you’ve been paid accordingly.’
And she’d spent it all, judging by the amount in the bank account I’d set up for her. Last time I checked, its balance was hovering just above zero. Heaven only knew what she spent the money on.
‘So what do you want?’ I shook my head slowly, my lip starting to curl. ‘More money?’
Her eyes widened, her lush lips parting. In that red dress she looked as ripe as an apple, ready to be plucked, and it disconcerted me. The last time I’d seen her she’d been in a drab waitress uniform, her hair scraped back into a ponytail, her face shiny with grease from the fried food she served. Hardly someone I’d ever think of plucking.
‘Would you give me more money?’ she asked, seeming more curious than greedy.
‘No.’
I took a step back, away from temptation. As surprisingly luscious as Daisy seemed right now, she was most definitely off limits. The last thing I wanted to do was consummate—and thus complicate—my marriage. I had plenty of women to choose from. I didn’t need this one.
‘That’s good, because I have enough money as it is.’
‘You seem to spend it as fast as I can transfer it to your bank account,’ I remarked sardonically. ‘Although I can’t imagine what you spend it on, living on an island with a population of about three hundred.’
‘That’s none of your business, is it?’ Daisy countered.
She had a rather guilty look about her now, with a flushed face and sliding gaze. What did she spend the money on? Perhaps she’d redecorated my villa ten times over, or bought a boat, or a helicopter, or a closet full of designer clothes… Although, judging by that dress, it was probably not the last possibility.
‘So what is it that you want, then?’
Impatience edged my voice and I made a point of glancing at my watch. Daisy Campbell—no, Dias—had taken up fifteen minutes of my valuable time, and that was fifteen minutes too many.
She cocked her head, her thick, darkly golden lashes lowered as she surveyed me, her lips slightly pursed. Was she trying to be coy? It was a surprising move, and one that unfortunately had the power to affect me.
Desire surged through my body in a white-hot rush, and although I was tempted to take another step back, to safety, I stood my ground. I would not be cowed by my unremarkable wife. Nor would I be affected.
‘Well?’
‘I’ll tell you what I want.’
She stood up, as striking as a flame in that ridiculous red dress, her light brown hair tumbling about her shoulders, her face flushed, her chin angled at a determined tilt—the embodiment of both defiance and desire.
‘I want an annulment. I want out of this sham of a marriage. And I’ll give you all your money back to prove it.’
I WATCHED AS shock blazed across Matteo’s features and stiffened his powerful body. Clearly he hadn’t been expecting that. No doubt he thought I’d spent all the money he’d given me. If only he knew the truth…
‘Why on earth would you want an annulment?’ he blustered. ‘What’s the point?’
‘That’s none of your business,’ I shot back.
The last thing I wanted was to expose my vulnerability to this man. I wanted out of this marriage because I wanted a chance at a real life, a real love, and I knew I wouldn’t get it with Matteo Dias. That was a fact that sent a stupid pang through me, because even now, when he was being so irritatingly arrogant, part of me wished he’d notice me the way a man was meant to notice a woman.
Even in this tight red dress, I could see he was regarding me like something unfortunate he’d stepped in.
‘It certainly is my business,’ Matteo retorted. ‘We’re married, Daisy.’
‘It’s not a real marriage.’
‘It is on paper.’
‘I’m willing to pay back the money, Matteo. What objection can you possibly have?’
Except I’d known instinctively that he would object—that he was not the kind of man to let a woman dictate his terms. To let me be the first to walk away. And now, feeling the full force