Love Islands…The Collection. Jane Porter
and she was grateful that he couldn’t see her face, see just how strongly he affected her. Her eyes narrowed. There was no way she was about to give him the satisfaction of hearing it in her voice either and, trying to project poise and confidence, she said coolly, ‘I know you’re short on empathy, Malachi, and that you have the morals of a shark, but I didn’t think even you would stoop this low.’
The plane was turning. They were making their descent. Frowning, Malachi flipped open his laptop, punching the keyboard, his face impassive as he searched through his emails.
‘I feel your pain, sweetheart,’ he said softly, ‘and I wish I could help. But unfortunately I’m a little baffled as to what it is you think I’ve done.’
Despite the neutrality of his words, he felt her anger gritty on his skin. Five years of silence and she randomly decided to ring up and shout at him about his morals and his lack of empathy. He frowned again. For some inexplicable reason she had once managed to turn his world upside down and inside out. It was a little surprising, not to say unsettling, to discover that she could still do so.
But his surprise was forgotten as finally he found the source of her outrage. So that was why she was so upset!
Leaning back, he stared at the screen, his eyes fixed on his wife’s name. In theory, their conversation was over. He could and probably should simply hand the matter over to his social responsibilities department but—his eyes gleamed—where would be the fun in that?
‘As I’m sure you remember, I run a huge operation,’ he said disingenuously. ‘Perhaps you could explain exactly what it is you think I’ve done.’
Addie felt a flash of impatience.
First he pulled the financial rug from under her feet, and now he was pretending he didn’t know anything about it. She might have been idealistic and eager enough to take his words at face value when they’d first met, five years ago, but thanks to Malachi she’d become an expert in double-dealing.
‘Oh, please! Do you really think I’m that stupid? You can’t bluff your way out of this one, Malachi. This is not some game of cards!’
‘Indeed it is not. Card games have rules, and players don’t tend to screech unfounded accusations at one another.’
The taunting note in his voice made her heart bang in her throat, and suddenly she was gripping the phone so tightly her hand hurt.
‘They are not unfounded. And I’m not screeching,’ she snapped.
Damn him. He was so infuriating! Always twisting the facts. And so impossible to pin down. Unless she concentrated hard she was going to lose track of why she’d rung him in the first place, and probably end up saying or doing something stupid. Although not as stupid as agreeing to marry him.
Her blue eyes hardened like water turning to ice. Reining in her temper, she said crisply, ‘You signed the letter, Malachi. I have it in front of me.’
‘I sign lots of letters,’ he said smoothly. ‘It could be anything. Dry cleaning. Overdue library book.’
Addie gritted her teeth. She had rung him in anger, knowing that right was on her side. Only now he was making her fury seem out of place—comical, even—as though she was trying to rob a bank with a water pistol. Worse, she could feel herself responding to the teasing note in his voice.
It was suddenly hard to breathe. Memories of the past were pressing in on her. Memories of the man she had loved—not just because of his staggering good looks but because he was cool and funny. And flirty.
She felt her insides tighten and a prickling heat began to spread slowly over her skin.
Even the most prosaic of words sounded warm and honeyed when spoken in that slow, sexy drawl of his. For a moment she allowed herself to picture his handsome face, that wicked gleam in those dark, hypnotic eyes, the slight upward curve to his gorgeous lush mouth—
Her heart was banging.
Don’t forget the lies that spilled from that gorgeous lush mouth, she reminded herself coldly.
Particularly those he’d told her at the altar. Next time she felt like reminiscing over her husband’s charms she needed to remember those lies and how they’d left her struggling even to get out of bed some mornings.
Gripping the phone more tightly, she lifted her chin. ‘As you well know it’s about the centre. So quit pretending that you had nothing to do with stopping my funding.’
Staring at the screen in front of him, Malachi shifted slowly in his seat, waiting, thinking, deliberating.
Until two minutes ago her letter had just been one of the many that were handed to him every week. And yes, he’d signed it. But did she really believe he would do such a thing to her charity out of malice? His face tightened. Probably, and he knew she had reason to think so, but he didn’t like the fact that she thought so badly of him.
‘You’re right. I did sign the letter,’ he said coolly. ‘But, like I said before, I sign hundreds of letters every week. I don’t read them all—or even write them, actually. Except those that are personal.’
‘You mean like a letter to your wife?’ Addie said acidly.
Malachi stared straight ahead. Her words stung, as she’d intended them to.
‘I suppose I asked for that.’
Feeling a stab of pain, Addie breathed out slowly. ‘Yes. You did.’
At least if he’d known nothing about the letter she might have been able to believe he would have acted differently. But how had he not noticed her name? Or remembered her charity? For a moment she contemplated asking him, but her pride forbade her from revealing the grinding ache of misery in her chest. Besides, what was the point? It was all too long ago to matter.
She heard him sigh.
‘I can understand how it might have looked to you. But it’s quite simple, really. We offer financial support to emerging charities for a fixed period—in your case five years. By that time we would expect the project to be up and running and the funding would be cancelled. My signing the letter was just a formality.’
A formality!
Her lips twisted.
What a perfect footnote to a marriage that had been nothing more than a business strategy—for Malachi, at least.
‘So,’ he said softly, ‘is that it? Are we good? Or is there something else you want to discuss?’
Her stomach gave a lurch as his words ricocheted inside her head. What did he mean? Something else you want to discuss. Was he just being polite? But even if a prickling tension hadn’t begun to spread over her skin she knew he wasn’t. She could hear the dare in his voice, the challenge, fluttering between them like a ribbon in a breeze.
Damn him. If Malachi wanted to talk about their relationship he could bring it up himself. Speaking to him had been a necessary evil. But she absolutely, definitely wasn’t going to make polite conversation with him. And she certainly didn’t want to discuss their marriage.
Or did she?
Her cheeks grew warm. Ringing Malachi had been a spur of the moment act. Confronted by what she’d seen as a deliberate act of provocation, she’d been swept along in a rush of anger and outrage. Only now her anger was slipping away, and reluctantly she found herself acknowledging the whole truth.
That she could simply have ignored the letter.
Or let a solicitor contact King Industries.
Or asked to speak to someone other than Malachi.
But she hadn’t because deep down, buried beneath the resentment and the pain and the hurt, she had wanted that chance to speak to him. She shivered. It had been reckless, stupid. But surely she could forgive herself that one moment of weakness.