Billionaire's Bride For Revenge. Susan Stephens
not signing unless it’s the original with only Javier’s name substituted for yours.’
‘You will if you still want the fortune and all the assets that come with it.’
‘What have you changed?’
‘Look for yourself.’ He handed the file to her. ‘The change is highlighted in red.’
She took it from him with a scowl.
‘May I remind you,’ he said as she flicked through the papers, ‘that it is your choice to marry me. I am not forcing your hand.’
She didn’t look up from the papers. ‘There was no other choice for me.’
‘The lure of all that money too strong to give up?’ he mocked.
But she didn’t answer, suddenly looking up at him with wide eyes, colour blasting over her cheeks. ‘Of all the things you could have changed, you changed that?’
‘I am not signing away a chunk of my fortune and my freedom to spend only one night a week in a bed with my wife.’ He’d read that part of the long, detailed pre-nuptial agreement with his mouth open, shaking his head with disbelief as he’d wondered what kind of a woman would sign such a document.
Scheduled, mandated sex?
And then he had read the next section and his incredulity had grown.
How could the woman who kissed as if she were made of lava agree to such a marriage?
He stared at Freya now and wondered what was going on in that complex brain. She was impossible to fathom, a living contradiction. Scalding hot on the outside but seemingly cold on the inside. Which was the real Freya: the hot or the cold one?
‘I will comply in full with the rest of the contract but when we are under the same roof we sleep in the same bed. If it is not something you can live with I suggest you tell me now so I can make the necessary arrangements for your departure from my home.’
Freya stared into eyes as uncompromising as his words and dug her bruised toes into the carpet. Her skin itched with the need for movement, the hour of yoga she had done before he had walked into her quarters nowhere near enough to quell the fears and emotions pummelling her.
Their kiss...
It had frazzled all her nerve endings.
How could she have reacted to his kiss like that? To him?
It had been her first proper kiss and it had been everything a first kiss should be and, terrifyingly, so much more.
She had spent the day searching for a way to purge her heightened emotions but her usual method of dancing her fears away was not available to her. She’d taken a long walk through his grounds and explored the vast chateau praying that somewhere within the huge rooms would be one she could use to dance in. It had been like Goldilocks searching for the perfect porridge and bed but without the outcome; not one of the rooms had been right. The majority could work with their proportions but the flooring was all wrong, either too slippery or covered in carpet, neither of which were suitable and could be dangerous.
Meditation and yoga were her fail-safe fall-backs, clearing her mind and keeping her body limber, but they weren’t enough, not for here and now when she was as frightened for her future and as terrified of what was happening inside her as she had ever been.
Her brain burned to imagine Benjamin’s private reaction when he had read the section that covered intimacy in her pre-nup. Javier had insisted it be put in, just as he had insisted on the majority of all the other clauses, including the one stating they would only have a child at a time of Freya’s choosing. He hadn’t wanted them to ever get to a point in the future where either could accuse the other of going back on what had been agreed. That agreement would always be there, a guide for them to enter matrimony and ensure a long, harmonious union without any unpleasant arguments or misunderstandings.
The whole document read as cold and passionless, entirely appropriate for a marriage that had nothing to do with love but business and safety.
Javier had been cold but he had been safe. There had never been any emotional danger in marrying him.
She had never had to dig her toes into the ground when she was with him. There had been no physical effect whatsoever.
The brain burn deepened as she read the contents again, the only change being Benjamin’s name listed as Party One. And the new clause stating they would share a bed when under the same roof.
Her heart thumped wildly, panic rabid and hot inside her.
When she had envisaged making love to Javier it had been with an analytical head, a box to tick in a marriage that would keep her mother alive and ease her suffering for months, hopefully years, to come.
There was nothing analytical about her imaginings of Benjamin. She had felt something move inside her in that first look they had shared, a flare of heat that had warmed her in ways she didn’t understand and could never have explained.
Their kiss had done more than warm her. She could still feel the scorch of his lips on hers and his taste on her tongue. Meditation and yoga had done nothing to rid it but it had helped to a small extent, allowing her to control her raging heart and breathing when he had unexpectedly entered her quarters.
And then he had stared at her with the look that suggested he wanted to strip the last of her clothing off.
She had never been shy skimpily dressed in front of anyone before but in that moment and under the weight of that look she had felt naked for the first time in her life.
And she was expected to share his bed and give herself to this man who frightened her far more than her ice-cold fiancé ever had?
He, Benjamin, was her fiancé now...
She could do this, she assured herself, breathing deeply. She had faced far scarier prospects, like when she’d been eleven and had left the safety and comfort of her parents’ home to become a boarder at ballet school. That had been truly terrifying even though it had also been everything she’d wanted.
Joining the school and discovering just how different she’d been to all the other girls had almost had her begging to go home. Having been accepted on a full scholarship that included boarding fees, she’d been the only girl there from a poor background. In comparison, all the others had been born with silver spoons in their mouths. They’d spoken beautifully, worn clothes that hadn’t come from second-hand stores and had had holiday homes. Freya’s parents hadn’t even owned the flat they’d lived in.
Somehow she had got through the chronic homesickness and the merciless taunts that nowadays would be considered bullying by burying herself in ballet. She had learned to hide her emotions and express it all through dance, fuelling the talent and love for ballet she had been lucky enough to be born with.
If she could get through that then she was equal to this, equal to Benjamin and the heady, powerful emotions he evoked in her. She could keep them contained. She must.
She could not predict what her future held but she knew what the consequences would be if she allowed this one clause to scupper their marriage plans: a slow, cripplingly painful death for her mother. She would do anything to ease her mother’s suffering. Anything. The first message that had popped into her phone when it had come back to life earlier was her father’s daily update. Her mother had had ‘a relatively comfortable night’. Translated, that meant the pain had only woken her a couple of times.
‘If you’re allowed to make a change in the contract then I must be allowed to make one too,’ she told him, jutting her chin out and refusing to wilt under the swirling green eyes boring into her. She would not let him browbeat her before they had even signed the contract.
‘Which is?’
‘I was supposed to be moving in with Javier. My flatmate’s already found a new tenant to take my room so I’m not going to have anywhere to live when I’m at work. I want you to buy