Revenge At The Altar. Louise Fuller
been offhand almost to the point of being brusque, willing her to brand him rude and unapproachable if it meant hanging on to some small remnant of self-control.
But it had been so hard, for his body had been on fire, his brain in turmoil, all five senses on permanent high alert. He’d wanted her so badly, and for a time he’d believed that she wanted him in the same way. Insistently. Relentlessly.
Unconditionally.
And so he’d proposed—wanting, needing to make permanent that passion, that sense of belonging to someone, and of her belonging to him. He’d had no words for how he’d felt. It had defied description. All he had known was that he had a place in her life, her world. He had believed that unquestioningly. Only of course he’d been wrong.
Margot had wanted him, but her desire had been rooted in the transitory and finite nature of an affair—and more specifically in the illicit thrill of ‘dating’ her older brother’s employee.
He felt anger spark inside him, and his eyes cut across the room to the line of portraits of Duvernays past and present.
Of course proposing to her had been his second mistake. His first had been to believe that his rapport with Yves was real, that it meant something. He had been lured not so much by the family’s wealth and glamour, but by their sense of contra mundum, and the chance to be admitted into their world had been irresistibly potent to someone with his past.
With hindsight, though, he could see that his presence had always been subject to the grace and favour of the Duvernay family. They might have tolerated him, but he had never really belonged—just as Margot had never really belonged to him.
He felt his heart start to beat faster.
As a suitor, he’d always known that he was an underdog, a wild card—but, stupid and naive fool that he’d been, he’d actually respected her for seeing beyond his bank account and his background. Admired her for choosing him, for taking that risk. Now, though, he knew that the risk had been all his.
His hands trembled and he felt a rush of irritation at his naivety. No wonder he wasn’t really feeling this moment. He might have created a business to rival theirs, but what had haunted him—and what still rankled and had made every relationship since Margot a short-lived and deliberately one-sided affair—was the fact that, just like his mother, he hadn’t been good enough to marry.
The Duvernays might have welcomed him into their home, but ultimately they had never considered him worthy of permanently joining their inner circle. Not even Margot. Especially not Margot.
His head was suddenly pounding.
For nearly a decade he’d told himself that watching the House of Duvernay implode would be enough. Enough to erase the sting of humiliation and the pain of being so summarily cast out and ostracised. Only now, here, standing in this boardroom, it was clear to him that there was another, more satisfying revenge to be had: namely, seizing control of the business from Margot.
It was the only possible way to exorcise this lingering hold she had on him. To punish her as she deserved to be punished. For she had wronged him the most. Her betrayal was the most personal and the deepest.
His pulse twitched as for the first time he noticed the band on her wrist, his brain swiftly and efficiently deciphering the cursive writing. He felt warmth spread across his skin. And it just so happened that he knew the perfect way to make his revenge exquisitely and fittingly personal.
Exhilaration hit him like a shot of pure alcohol and, resting his gaze on her profile, he steadied himself. ‘I know how you must be feeling...’
Her head jerked towards him, her long pale blonde hair catching the light as it flicked sideways.
‘I doubt that.’ Dark brown eyes wide with anger and outrage locked on to his. ‘Having feelings would make you human, and you clearly don’t have an ounce of humanity.’
Staring at the pulse beating in the base of her throat, Max gritted his teeth. He had plenty of feelings for Margot, unfortunately most of them seemed to be occurring somewhere in the region of his groin.
Fighting off the frustration that was circling like a caged dog inside his head, Max took a step towards her. ‘I do know. You might not have thought I had much to lose, but thanks to your brother I lost the little I had,’ he said coolly.
Margot blinked. At the mention of her brother’s name anger surged up inside her like a hot spring. ‘Yves was protecting me.’
‘Yes, by destroying me.’
She reeled back from the controlled fury in his voice. ‘That wasn’t his intention.’
‘You think?’
She glared at him, not knowing what she hated more: the coolness in his eyes or the mockery distorting his beautiful mouth. ‘Yes, I do. He just did what any brother would do. I wouldn’t expect you to understand that. I wouldn’t expect you to understand feelings like loyalty and lo—
She broke off, appalled at what she had so nearly spoken out loud—not just the fact that she had loved him but loved him rapturously, with her body, heart and soul. Only her love had been unreciprocated—humiliatingly unilateral. Worse, it had blinded her to what he was really thinking.
A sudden sharp spasm of pain twisted her stomach, and the words he’d spoken to her so long ago suddenly echoed inside her head.
‘It was all about the money. You and me. That’s why I proposed. I just wanted your money.’
She felt his clear-eyed gaze probing her face, and more than anything she wanted to raise her hands and shield her eyes, conceal the emotions that were rising up inside her. But she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how badly he’d hurt her. Or that the pain of his betrayal felt as fresh today as it had ten years ago.
Ignoring the thudding of her heart, she glared at him. ‘Just because you don’t care about anything but money—’
‘You mean the money that you don’t currently have?’ he said softly. ‘Remind me, Margot. What is Duvernay’s net to EBITDA ratio these days?’
Their eyes clashed, and she flinched inwardly at the anger and resentment taking shape in the no-man’s land between them.
Forcing herself to stand her ground, she wrapped her fingers around her elbows. ‘Why do you care? Or do you just want to gloat about that too?’
His face was still, but his eyes were glittering in a way that made the air thump out of her lungs. For a moment they stared at one another in silence, and then finally he shrugged. ‘I wasn’t gloating,’ he said simply.
The mildness of his tone caught her off guard, for it was so at odds with the adversarial tension swirling around the room and inside her chest.
‘I just like to be in full command of the facts. That’s how I run my business.’
His eyes were fixed on hers, calm, appraising, unnerving, and she felt her breathing jerk, saw the muted colours of the walls slamming into focus.
‘Well, luckily for me, whatever you might like to believe, Duvernay isn’t your business,’ she said, lifting her chin and returning his gaze, her brown eyes sparking with resentment.
How dare he do this? Saunter back into her life with his newly acquired shares and his careless gaze, unlocking the past and upending the present.
For a second there was total silence, and then his mouth curved slowly upwards. Despite herself, she felt her pulse flutter, for his smile was still so difficult to resist, and even though she wanted to deny its power she could feel a trembling heat starting to creep over her skin.
And he hadn’t even touched her, she thought, her heart lurching against her ribcage.
‘Well, luckily for you—’ he paused, his eyes resting calmly on her face ‘—that could all be about to change.’