Marriage of Convenience

Chapter Fourteen

'When you told me you were firing me I thought it was because you were the type of man who meant to keep his wife at home, looking after the children.' No way was she going to let him know the way she really felt—betrayed, used, as far as ever from having his love. Her role was to be the amenable, totally sensible wife, pulling with him, never against him, never letting him know by word or action how desperately she craved the commitment of his love.

'But I do.' His soft answer left her gasping, but he amended, 'But not quite in the way you imagine. When the children do arrive we'll turn a room here into an office for you, install a computer link-up with Dexter’s head office, and you can do most of your work from home. No problem. You'll have a nanny, of course, but we'll both make time to be with the children—that's where the house in the country will come in. A place for holidays, weekends, that sort of thing. Fair?'

She nodded, unable to meet his eyes in case he saw the pain there and wondered... Oh, he was being fair, doing everything possible to make their life together with a success, and if she didn't love him she might feel the marriage was perfect. But she did love him, more than life, and his calculated manipulation of their future, of the assets she'd brought to this marriage, made her feel cold, cold and lonely.

But she nodded, 'Very fair,' and finished her drink. 'I hope Uncle Charles and Sam approve our intentions,' she added drily, flinching when he told her, 'I've already consulted them.' She had been living in a fool's paradise, the last person to know of his intentions. His brain must have been working overtime ever since she'd mentioned those shares in conjunction with her proposal of marriage.

She hardly heard him when he said, 'Your uncle's firmly behind the idea of your joining Dexter. So is Sam but only, I must warn you, because he can't see any way out of the near shambles he's created.'

'Then there seems nothing further to say,' she told him, surprising herself by the equable tone she achieved, and he countered, 'I've often wondered why didn't you join Dexter when you got your degree?'

'Sam.' she said, containing her misery. 'I couldn't accept the idea of him treating me like a backward junior clerk. Apart from being pompous, he's the type who thinks that being male automatically makes him superior in every degree to a mere female.' And I've discovered that he hates me, which will make working with him almost intolerable, she thought. But Theo wasn't ever going to hear about that, so she added, 'Not to worry, you now own as many shares as he and his father between them, and that, if nothing else, makes me his equal.'

And to her astonishment Theo grinned lazily, stretching, cat-like, in his chair. 'You have a finer mind by far, determination and guts, not to mention all that exquisite packaging. The poor guy's going to have to resign himself to taking a very inferior back seat indeed!'

Almost, she felt flattered. But he was simply seeing her as a brain, a means of pulling Dexter Securities in which, of course, he had a vested interest—together again. He wasn't seeing her as a wife, a woman to be loved.

'I think I'll go up, I'm very tired,' she excused herself, hoping to get out of there before her misery began to show through, and she had reached the door before his voice stopped her, and she turned to see him leave his chair, come over to her.

'You don't mind? It might not seem so from where you're standing, but I don't want to push you into doing something you don't want to do.' The character lines on either side of his mouth indented wryly and he touched the side of her face with a slowly moving finger, his eyes sober. She almost flinched away from his touch because the meaning behind it was shallow. She craved the depths of emotion, not the shallows. But she smiled, shaking her head.

'Of course, I don't mind. It's the sensible thing to do.' And she watched his face change, assume the blank poker player's mask again. That mask always worked well in his business dealings and had always amused her because she knew how the mind behind the mask was working. But now, when he said, 'And you always do the sensible thing. Quite right, Freya,' she didn't know whether to take it as a compliment or not. It was one thing to understand how his mind worked in his dealings in the City, quite another to understand his motives, his feelings, in the arena of their marriage. And that night, for the first time, she pretended to be deeply asleep when he came to their bedroom.

THE last of the everyday cooking utensils and crockery went into a packing case, ready to be taken and now Freya had to start wrapping the things of sentimental value mostly bits and pieces her college friends had given as housewarming presents when she had first moved into the small house where she used to live. These and most of the furniture would go into the store. Theo had said, 'You might like to hang on to your things, put them about when we get a place in the country,' and she had agreed, because she had taken time and trouble when furnishing, and some of the pieces were like old and valued friends.

Getting up from her knees, she decided on coffee to help steady her nerves because Leo Isaac had said he'd be here around lunchtime, and that could mean anytime between twelve and two. 

She tucked the hem of her blue and green striped shirt back into the waistband of her sleek green jeans and filled the kettle, plugging it in with hands that shook a little. She would be thankful when today was over, this whole horrible business behind her.

She spooned coffee granules and powdered milk into a mug and waited for the kettle to boil, chewing on a corner of her lower lip. It had seemed a good idea to suggest Leo collected the money from here. She hadn't wanted him anywhere near the house in Notting Hill, but she could have laid down a definite time, an anonymous meeting place outside some tube station or other.

But she wasn't used to this kind of cloak and dagger stuff, and she hadn't been thinking too clearly when she phoned him yesterday. He would be here anytime during the next two hours. But at least, after then, it would all be over and she could put all her energies into making this marriage work.

But that would be an uphill struggle, she admitted. Those shares had been the primary reason behind his decision to accept her proposal, make her the mother of the children he wanted to have. But she'd always known that, hadn't she? Her conversation with him last night had merely reinforced what

She’d already known. Nothing had changed, not really, and besides, she wasn't a quitter and would do everything she could to make this marriage work, and pray that in time love would grow for him, too. She smiled at this thought, a small, tight smile, and as she poured water into the mug she remembered how she sat opposite him at breakfast this morning and he'd asked, 'Are you going to take a look at the Dexter Securities books this morning?'

She'd shaken her head, her stomach tying itself in knots because this morning she was collecting the money from the bank, seeing Leo Isaac, and it wasn't a prospect she was over the moon about.

'I'll give him a call and ask him to send all the relevant stuff over with the driver this afternoon,"' she had told him.’ I can work through them in peace here, without him breathing down my neck.' 

'Good idea. And don't let him try to put you down.' His mouth quirked humorously. 'Not that I think he could, not in a million years. But just remember, your uncle's on your side all the way, and if you need any help or advice you know you can count on me.'

Theo had finished eating and he'd be leaving for the company soon. Cleo had tried to look on the bright side because the next time she saw him the nightmare of Leo Isaac would be over and behind her, so she smiled and said, 'Have a good day.'

'Make it a better one?' he'd countered lightly. 'I miss you around the office, so have lunch with me?'

'I'd better not,' she said quickly, perhaps too quickly, because she'd caught the slight lift of his brows over cool, enquiring eyes, and she just had to explain as she followed him to the door, feeling like a worm, 'I thought I'd take myself over to my old apartment this morning. I need to get things sorted out and packed and arrange for some of the stuff to go into the store. The house agents will be putting the board up next week.'

It had felt like telling lies, although it was part of the truth. And she would phone through and make those arrangements just as soon as Leo had gone. Until then, she was too edgy to make any arrangements with anyone about anything.

It was almost an hour later when the shrill of the doorbell made her drop the pile of books she was moving down from her former bedroom. Her nerves were stretched tight as she stepped over the scattered books, but she took a deep breath and told herself that this would soon be over, and after that, she felt calmer, better able to cope.

As she opened the door he was leaning against the frame, smiling unpleasantly; she stepped back and he walked through as if he owned the place. He was casually dressed and she thought: brown leather trousers, ye gods! And decided they didn't suit him. Neither did the brown silk shirt, open almost to the waist. The outfit marked him as the poseur he was. Saying nothing, she preceded him to the living-room, untidy now with the bulging cartons and carriers she dumped haphazardly because this morning she hadn't been functioning on her normal calm and efficient level. There was a small wall safe behind one of the pictures, installed by a previous owner, and she put the package in there as soon as she comes from the bank. Fifty thousand was a lot of money to leave lying around, even for a few hours.

It took a few moments to extract the package, and when she turned he was relaxed on the sofa, his booted feet on the almond-green table, his eyes avid, following her every movement. He held out his hand wordlessly but she shook her head.

'The hotel receipt first.' She watched coldly as he pulled a scrap of paper from a pocket in his shirt and released it so that it fluttered to the carpet.

'How do you know I haven't had it photocopied?' he asked, his face blank, and she snapped,

'You probably have. But I'd advise you not to try it on again. Just pay off your debts and stay away from me.' She tossed the package at him, disgust on her face. 'Now get out!'

He turned his head, staring at her, his face tightening. 'You weren't always so keen to see the back of me.'

'I didn't know what a creep you were then,' she grated, her control precarious now. She couldn't bear to be reminded that she had once found him remotely likable. It made her feel ashamed to know that she had ever been so blind, so gullible. And he knew that he'd have to be a fool not to, and his mouth whitened with a temper as he retaliated, 'But I knew what a pain you were! My God when I think of the time I put in all those boring trips to the country, the ghastly picnics, the cozy meals you dished up here and the predictable, prissy "hands-off" signals if I did more than kiss you! God, what a bore it all was. And for what? For sweet damn-all!'

He tipped the contents of the package on the sofa, swinging his legs to the floor, his eyes furious. 'I reckon' you owe me this! You can't actually imagine I enjoyed sucking up to you, listening to you boring on about your wretched exam results and then your precious career? So, having said that, and put the record straight,' his voice changed, was smooth as oil, 'you don't mind if I count this, I hope. Not being trustworthy myself, I don't trust anyone else. Not even a self-righteous prude like you.'

So she gritted her teeth, not bothering to tell him to be quick about it because even saying that would waste precious seconds and she wanted him out of here. He tainted the air. And when he had finished he stood up, looking down at the piles of notes tens and twenties spread out on the almond-green fabric.

'I should have asked for double,' he said.

'Just take it and go,' she gritted, controlling her voice with difficulty because she felt like screaming.

He raised his head then, tearing his eyes from the small fortune spread out in front of him, and he looked at her, at the taut lines of her body, and his eyes held something unspeakable.

'You always were a frigid b***h,' he mouthed slowly, and then advanced, putting himself between her and the door. 'But you're a married b***h now, and maybe Dylan’s taught you what it's all about.'

He began to circle her and she sidestepped, her heart beginning to race, and she realized when it was too late to do anything about it that he had moved her into a corner.

'Don't come near me!' Her eyes glittered with a mixture of rage and fear, and he said thickly, 'Why not? I'll show you what you missed that night in Black Knight Hotel.'

He made a single swift movement, lunging for her, but she twisted out of his reach, his hands finding nothing more substantial than the cloth of her shirt, and the buttons ripped as she jerked frenziedly away, the fabric parting to reveal the rounded globes of her breasts, barely covered by the midnight-blue lace of her bra.

There was no time to think about making herself decent again, she had to get out of here because Leo was serious, deadly serious, his hot eyes on her exposed skin. She made a desperate attempt to reach the door, but he was quick and fitter than he deserved to be, considering his life-style and he caught her, bringing her down, knocking the breath out of her lungs as his body fell on hers.

Freya twisted and fought, but he caught her head between his hands, twisting until she thought her hair would come out by the roots, and she began to scream, but he silenced her with his savage mouth and blood thundered in her head, a pounding roar. But she heard, above it, a voice like a permafrost.

'Just what the hell is going on?'.