Modern Romance - The Best of the Year. Miranda Lee
‘Put it on,’ Acheron advised in the hall, planting an emerald ring unceremoniously into the palm of her hand.
Tabby frowned down at the gleaming jewel. ‘What’s it for?’
‘Engagement ring...marriage?’ Acheron groaned. ‘Sometimes you’re very slow on the uptake.’
Tabby rammed the beautiful ring down over her knuckle and squinted down at it, her colour high. ‘I didn’t know we were going for frills. I assumed you would choose more of a basic-package approach.’
‘Since we’ll be getting married pretty quickly and without a big splash our charade needs to look more convincing from the outset.’
‘I’m already living with you and wearing clothes you bought for me,’ she parried flatly. ‘Isn’t that enough of a show?’
‘Many couples live together without marrying, many women have worn clothing I paid for,’ Acheron derided. ‘What we have has to look more serious.’
The restaurant was dimly lit and intimate and their table probably the best in the room. Certainly the attention that came their way from the staff was so constant that Tabby found it almost claustrophobic. Having studiously ignored her during the drive while talking on his phone, Acheron finally allowed himself the indulgence of looking at his bride-to-be. Her blonde mane tumbled round her shoulders framing a vivid and delicate little face dominated by violet eyes and a lush fuchsia-tinted mouth. He couldn’t take his eyes off that mouth, a mouth modelled to make a man think of sin and sinning.
‘How am I performing so far as your dress-up doll?’ Tabby enquired mockingly to take her mind off the fact that she had still not established which knife and fork to use with the salad being brought to them.
‘You answer back too much but you look amazing in the right clothes,’ Acheron conceded, startling her with that compliment. ‘So far I’m very satisfied with our bargain, and you can be assured that I will play my part.’
As he reached for one fork she reached for another and then changed course mid-movement, her gaze welded to his lean brown hands. Just copy him, her brain urged her.
‘I’ve applied for a special licence. The legalities should be in place in time for the ceremony to be held on Thursday,’ Acheron delivered. ‘My lawyer is making all the arrangements and has contacted Social Services on our behalf with regard to our plans for Amber.’
‘My word, he’s a fast mover,’ Tabby remarked breathlessly.
‘You told me you didn’t want the child to go into foster care,’ he reminded her.
Her skin turned clammy at that daunting reminder of the unknown destination that would have awaited Amber had Tabby not gained his support. ‘I don’t but there are things we still haven’t discussed. What am I supposed to do while we’re pretending to be married?’
A winged ebony brow lifted. ‘Do? Nothing. You concentrate on being a mother and occasionally a wife. I will expect you to make a couple of appearances with me at public events. That is the sole commitment you have to make to me.’
‘That’s great because I want to start up my business again...in a small way,’ Tabby admitted abruptly.
His handsome features clenched hard. ‘No. That’s out of the question. The child deserves a full-time mother.’
Tabby couldn’t believe her ears. ‘Most mothers work—’
‘I will cover your financial requirements,’ Acheron delivered with unquenchable cool. ‘For the foreseeable future you will put the child’s needs first and you will not work.’
Tabby gritted her teeth. ‘I don’t want to take your money.’
‘Tough,’ Acheron slotted in succinctly.
‘You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do.’
‘Can’t I?’
Tabby’s pulse had quickened until it felt as if it were beating in the foot of her throat, obstructing her ability to breathe and speak. Frustrated rage lay behind her choked silence as she stared across the table at him, her small face taut and pale. He was pulling strings as if she were a puppet. And wasn’t she exactly that?
A chill settled over her rage, safely enclosing it. He was willing to help her to adopt Amber and she was stuck with his outdated idealistic attitude whether she liked it or not. Yes, she could walk away from him but if she did so she would also be walking away from the child she loved. And that, Tabby reflected hollowly, she could not do.
Amber had tugged at Tabby’s heartstrings from the day she was born and Sonia was too weak, having suffered her first stroke within hours of the birth, even to hold her daughter. Consequently, for as long as Tabby needed Acheron’s support she would have to conform to his expectations. Facing and accepting that ugly frightening truth had to be one of the most humbling experiences Tabby had ever known because it ran contrary to every tenet she had lived by since adulthood. The threat of no longer being in full charge of her life genuinely terrified Tabby.
‘You seem to have lost your appetite,’ Ash remarked, watching her move the food around her plate without lifting anything to her ripe pink mouth.
It was a steak cooked rare, not the way she liked it. But then she had coped with the menu being written in pretentious French simply by making the exact same menu choices as he had.
‘You killed my appetite,’ Tabby countered thinly.
A forbidding look flitted across his chiselled features. ‘If restarting your business means that much to you, you should give up your desire to adopt a child, who will need much more of your time than you could give her as an independent businesswoman.’
Well, that certainly put his point of view across, Tabby conceded ruefully, sipping her water, ignoring the full wineglass beside it. She never touched alcohol, didn’t trust the effect it might have on her, feared it might even awaken a craving she might find hard to control. She couldn’t argue with Acheron Dimitrakos because setting up her business again would demand a great deal of her time. She compressed her lips, reasonably certain she could’ve coped without short-changing Amber but questioning for the first time whether or not that would have been fair to the child she loved. After all, she had personally never enjoyed the luxury of being a full-time mother and perhaps it would be more sensible to give that lifestyle a shot rather than dismissing it out of hand.
‘Are we on the same page?’ Acheron Dimitrakos asked impatiently over the cheese and crackers.
Mouth full at last of something she wanted to eat, Tabby nodded while trying not to imagine what it would feel like to be financially dependent on a man for the first time in her life.
As they emerged from the restaurant, Acheron banded an arm round her stiff spine, and she blinked in bewilderment at the daunting acknowledgement that they were literally surrounded by photographers. ‘Smile,’ he instructed her flatly.
And, hating it, she did as she was told.
‘What was that all about?’ she demanded once they were driving away.
‘Public proof of our relationship,’ Acheron supplied drily. ‘There’ll be an announcement of our engagement in The Times tomorrow.’
What relationship? Tabby thought with wry amusement. He said jump, she said how high? That was not a relationship, it was a dictatorship, but possibly he didn’t know the difference.
* * *
The plaintive cry roused Acheron from a sound sleep. He listened for a while but the noise continued. After a moment, he rolled out of bed with a curse on his lips and reached the bedroom door, before groaning out loud and stalking back to rummage through a drawer and extract a pair of jeans. He hated having guests. He hated any interruption to his usual routine. But Tabby was a better option than a real wife, he reminded himself with satisfaction, and a good deal less likely to develop ambitious ideas about hanging